


night flowers shirking from the light of the sun

by obstinateRixatrix



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Happy Ending, Romance, Xianxia, idiots to lovers, tall hot and murderface/disaster dumbass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2020-10-21 14:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 28,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20695436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obstinateRixatrix/pseuds/obstinateRixatrix
Summary: A cultivator insists on repaying her life debt to a demoness.No one is happy with this development.





	1. 〇 | provincial city much too invested in private matters

**Author's Note:**

> 1) [pdf of completed story formatted like a novel (6/17, last time I said it was the final version, for real, I swear this time, but. it's this one. this one is.)](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1fPlu2YTVnn4zj3pEhZnEX6xCZTo_r6BH/view?usp=drivesdk)  
2) [art/misc nfsftlots tag on my blog](https://obstinaterixatrix.tumblr.com/tagged/nfsftlots)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oc project that's probably gonna take a long time to finish (assuming it will be finished) but somehow I got the first part polished enough so figured might as well post
> 
> couple (extensive) notes: 
> 
> -if you're unfamiliar with the xianxia genre, it's basically. chinese historical fantasy. cultivators are folks who can use spiritual energy (qì) and they fight ghosts or monsters or demons sometimes. they fly on swords.  
-occasionally I'll be throwin in some chinese terms but the endnotes are gonna have the translation  
-(not gonna bother with coding, just ctrl+f if you wanna)  
-courtesy names are a thing here (basically: alt names when reaching adulthood, younger folks & juniors use courtesy names out of respect but older folks & seniors can use given names)  
-t rating is bc it's gonna get a lil violent  
-this is 'choose not to use archive warnings' not 'no archive warnings apply' bc idk  
-will have a happy end  
-I have the entire story outlined but there's a bunch of stuff that's subject to change and also I'm in hell semester of grad school (lol)  
-might go in and edit details as I write bc again. subject to change.  
-yes I wrote this bc of mxtx's novels  
-if you have questions about this [pop em in my ask on tombl](obstinaterixatrix.tumblr.com/ask)

The city of Tiěyáng[1] is, frankly speaking, not that important to the Shénxià[2] empire. Its location by the northern border marks it merely one stop of many on the long journey to the bustling southern capital. As for its size… large enough that its citizens prefer privacy, yet small enough that privacy’s impossible to keep; ‘provincial’ would be a generous description. 

In the past hundred years—through the clumsy merging of demon and human society, as well as the ascensions of three emperors—the most exciting thing that happened in the city proper had been around twenty years ago, when the young daughter of a city official vanished.

The disappearance itself wasn’t particularly noteworthy. Regrettable as it is to say, children disappear all the time, even if their parents are minor nobility. The family grieved. Time passed. 

Five years ago, that same daughter reappeared!

Though everyone had assumed the worst, the truth was at once as unbelievable as expected and yet astonishingly mundane. The young girl somehow wandered off while the family had been at an unfamiliar city, far enough to end up in an unfamiliar village. The villagers couldn’t figure out what to do with her, but it just so happened that a group of roaming cultivators were traveling through the area! They graciously offered to bring her to many different cities in hopes of finding her family. And it took time—fifteen years, in fact—but eventually the girl was reunited with her parents.

What would have been a happy ending was tragically cut short. Just a day after this reunion, her parents were struck by sudden sickness and passed in the night.

Fortunately, there was still an uncle in the area: a widower of the young girl’s aunt. Though they had no blood relation, he was willing to take the family’s title and look after the daughter of his departed sister-in-law, managing the small household for the few months before she turned old enough to inherit her official duties.

Alone, all these dramatic developments would have been more than enough to make the family a spectacle for the public eye, but on top of that, the girl—now a young woman with the skills of a trained cultivator—quickly became something of a local celebrity! It’s rare for the inheritor of a title to personally deal with matters plaguing the average citizen, especially if those matters involve any amount of danger. 

Imagine the shock when a young woman of her status slew a fearsome beast that threatened the whole city! 

For many who witnessed the fraught struggle, it had been their first time seeing anything like flying swords and blasts of qì[3] and a person able to stand after being thrown with enough force to crater the ground. It’s only natural for such a person to be the subject of endless gossip and speculation.

So, as insignificant as Tiěyáng is, it’s certainly famous in the area for its official warrior.

Famous within a two-mile radius, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Tiěyáng - 鐵陽 - iron + sun (but multiple meanings for each character)  
[2] Shénxià - 神夏 - divine + summer  
[3] qì - 气 - spiritual energy; exists in every living thing, also has been transliterated as 'chi'  



	2. 一 | traveling an unworn path

Liú Jiānghuá[1] is not an idiot.

Her uncle is, once again, attempting to sabotage a delivery, as he has tried to do countless times before. 

This time it seems he plans to set an ambush. It’s obvious in how he stresses the need for discretion; of course at this point it’s practically a given for her to work alone, but even so she simply  _ must _ be the only escort for the imperial couriers to their next destination and it is  _ vitally _ important to take a specific path that deviates from the main road well-worn by frequent travelers.

Only an idiot would take such suspicious conditions at face value. 

After Liú Jiānghuá relays these exceedingly particular instructions, Yuè Péng[2]—senior courier—responds with, “A safer route, huh? How considerate! Your uncle puts in so much extra work for us.” He turns to his newly appointed junior, blocking the path for a few irate citizens trying to go about their day.  “Xiǎo-Zhèng[3], make sure to get along with Liú-nǚgōngzǐ[4]. She’s quite the accomplished cultivator! Most great warriors head straight for the capital once they get a reputation; it takes a truly noble soul to stay on the outskirts of the empire for as long as she has.”

Hé Zhèng[5], who looks as if she would greatly prefer being called with a little less familiarity, glances at the specified noble soul beside her. The noble soul stares back, unmoved.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” says Hé Zhèng, clumsy and polite.

Liú Jiānghuá nods. Then starts walking. “We’ll stop by the post office.”

“Alright,” she says.

“If you want to live, listen when I tell you to run.”

“…Alright,” she says. 

“Don’t look so worried!” Yuè Péng gives his junior a hearty slap on the back, almost knocking her into the street. “I’ve traveled with Liú-nǚgōngzǐ for several years and I’ve always been fine! She’s a very reliable guard.”

Hearing that seems to give Hé Zhèng some peace of mind. “How often do you face trouble on the road?”

“Oh, practically every time I come through here. There’s always something!”

“ _ What!? _ ” Hé Zhèng shouts, any trace of peace flung far from her mind. This is probably why the turnover for Tiěyáng’s junior couriers has been so high.

“Package,” Liú Jiānghuá says, holding out her hand.

“What do you mean  _ practically every time! _ You can’t be serious! That’s suspicious! Way too suspicious! And I can’t just hand such an important package over to someone without clearance, I have to guard it with my life—”

“Guard it with your life? Don’t be ridiculous. Why would a stack of papers be worth more than your life?” Yuè Péng takes the package out of Hé Zhèng’s hands, passing it to Liú Jiānghuá without any fuss. “Xiao-Zhèng, you really need to calm down.”

“We’re not supposed to do that!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Liú-nǚgōngzǐ is Tiěyáng’s head of imperial deliveries.”

“She is?”

Yuè Péng lets out a laugh. “Have some manners, ask her yourself.”

For a moment, Hé Zhèng looks very close to strangling her senior. She turns to Liu Jianghua. “You are?”

Liú Jiānghuá lifts the jade pendant that hangs from the hilt of her sword, carved with the crest of the empire: three dragons circling a flowering lotus. Hé Zhèng might’ve seen it, had she been paying the slightest amount of attention.

“What about the other guy?” she asks, no doubt remembering the man they checked in with.

“My uncle.”

“He handles the routes and some of the letters, but Liú-nǚgōngzǐ takes care of everything else,” Yuè Péng explains. “Other officials let their title get to their head—not our Liú-nǚgōngzǐ! There’s only been one time in the last five or so years she hasn’t personally seen to my safety. Every time I travel through here I feel as important as the emperor himself!”

Liú Jiānghuá remains stone-faced through the usual onslaught of praise. After going through all the bureaucratic formalities associated with imperial affairs and holding a brief discussion with the mail clerk at the counter, she hands a package back to Hé Zhèng.

“Thank you,” Hé Zhèng says, making a clear effort to show proper courtesy. It comes across stilted. “Five years… that’s a long time.”

“Isn’t it?” Yuè Péng answers, as if the comment had been directed towards him. “I’ve known her since I was a junior courier! Watching her grow up… this must be what a proud father feels. But it’s impossible for me to have a daughter my own age, of course!” Yuè Péng lets out another loud, boisterous laugh as Hé Zhèng stares with open incredulity. “Still, I remember back when I was just a bit taller than Liú-nǚgōngzǐ.” Liú Jiānghuá has never been shorter than Yuè Péng. “And you wore those vambraces so loose back then—I thought for sure they’d slip right off! You must have been, what, eighteen?”

“Nineteen.” 

Yuè Péng raises a sentimental hand to his chest. “They grow up so fast.”

It doesn’t take long to reach the city limits. Tiěyáng isn’t terribly big; most of the people that come through are on their way to larger, much more important cities. The already-sparse crowd gradually thins as they depart from the main road, then disappears entirely as they trek into the surrounding forest. Light dapples through the autumn leaves, a soft warmth without any hint of summer’s harsh edge. 

The first few hours pass peacefully. Or, as peaceful as it can with Yuè Péng’s incessant chatter about how Liú Jiānghuá's vambraces must have been enchanted by a deity awestruck by her skill (they were not), how her sword was probably gifted by the son of the emperor himself (it was not), how her cultivation was high enough that she could go a hundred days without food or water (she cannot). Hé Zhèng listens with the patience of a junior constantly subjected to her senior’s nonsense. 

None of this is enough to distract Liú Jiānghuá from noticing, off to the side, the glint of sunlight across metal.

She blocks the arrow with the sheath of her sword before it can pierce either of her companions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> names are written as last name first name (so yue peng is calling liu jianghua by her last name and he zheng by her first name) (also these are all courtesy names)
> 
> all of the surnames are just surnames but you know w/ chinese characters & stuff 
> 
> [1] Liú Jiānghuá - 刘江华 - 'liú' can mean 'to kill'; 'jiāng' can mean river & 'huá' can mean flower. but also, jiǎnghuà (讲话) means to have a conversation so  
[2] Yuè Péng - 岳鵬 - 'yuè' can be mountain, 'péng' is a giant mythical bird that can turn into a fish apparently  
[3] Xiǎo-[name] - 小 - means small but if you put it in front of someone's name it's informal/affectionate  
[4] nǚgōngzǐ - 女公子 - used to be a p respectful term for daughters of nobles (according to a pal w modern sensibilities this comes across p butch lmao)  
[5] Hé Zhèng - 何正 - 'hé' can be like interrogative or for emphasis, 'zhèng' can be
> 
> How considerate! - 知冷知热, zhī lěng zhī rè


	3. 一 | bandits ambush the unworn path

“Run—!”

“What?” Hé Zhèng yells, not running. “What!?”

Yuè Péng, far quicker than his junior, is already booking it, catching hold of Hé Zhèng’s collar as he does. “Time to go!”

“Nǚgōngzǐ!?”

Before Yuè Péng can respond, a pair of hands grab each of them by the throat. The demoness holding them says, in a clipped accent far more common at the southern capital than at some distant border city, “Shouldn’t you worry about yourself?” Then, in a saccharine voice, “The package, please.” 

It’s the last thing she says before Liú Jiānghuá's sword—imbued with qì—stabs through her heart, thrown without hesitation. The body gets pinned to a tree, limp, allowing Yuè Péng and Hé Zhèng to scramble away. 

“The fuck!? What the fuck!?” The archer—human, also with a distinctly clipped accent—fires arrow after arrow, many of them easily dodged. One manages to barely skim her arm, but regulating qì stops the bleeding for the moment. She catches the next arrow and sends it back. The archer’s string of curses cut off as it pierces his neck, straight through flesh as if it were paper.

Their third companion (also human) doesn’t quite manage to sneak up on her. Liú Jiānghuá calls back her sword with a flick of her wrist, blocking the blade he swings towards her neck—but not the powder he throws in her face.

Instantly, the world becomes… muted. Blood drips down her arm, sword heavier in her hands. 

It’s almost a familiar sensation. Uncomfortably so.

“Not so tough now, huh?” he spits. By this point, it’s hardly a surprise to hear he also comes from the south. It's a rarity when a traveler from around the capital comes so far north; this is certainly the most she’s seen in the last few months.

It takes time adjusting to the lack of qì, fighting without the way it should flow through her every movement. Time she pays for in blood when a well-timed stab catches her side. But he’s overconfident, certain she’ll be cowed without her cultivation—he doesn’t expect her to grip the blade, keeping him in place as she skewers him through the chest, somewhere far more fatal than his glancing blow. A cultivator without qì can still use a sharp sword.

As his body falls to the ground, triumph fading from his eyes, a shout rings out. Liú Jiānghuá turns to see Hé Zhèng struggling as Yuè Péng holds her back from the demon holding their package. 

“Stronger than expected,” the demon says. “Perhaps I should’ve spared more expense for the muscle. But, at least I don’t have to pay them.” The package burns to ash in mere seconds.

A demon that controls fire, then.

“What the fuck!” Hé Zhèng yells, breaking free from Yuè Péng, face flushed with unbridled rage. “You bastard! That was my first job!”

“Shall we make it your last?” 

“Eat shit and die!”

“Ignore her! Please ignore her!” Yuè Péng jumps between Hé Zhèng and the demon, hands clasped as if in prayer. “Such a shame! Looks like we don’t have anything of value! Not anymore, that is! No point in any more bloodshed, wouldn’t you agree?” he asks, offering a bright smile. 

“I’ve certainly done what I came here to do…” the demon concedes, and Yuè Péng lets out a breath of relief. “…But having all of you gone would make my job much easier.” 

The demon launches himself towards the couriers. Liú Jiānghuá launches herself at the demon. She parries the first swipe of his claws, but the second—aimed for Hé Zhèng—she has to block with her arm. Blood drips down in rivulets.

“Couldn’t follow directions,” she can’t help muttering.

“W-what?”

With a sharp glare, “Run!” 

Finally Hé Zhèng listens, letting herself be dragged away by Yuè Péng.

It would’ve been a hard fight even with qì. Without qì, it’s an impossible one. He’s too fast, too strong, and not nearly injured enough. Caught in an endless onslaught, exhaustion starts to weigh her reflexes. She can’t turn in time.

Five claws stab into her back. Five claws lift her into the air. There’s unbearable heat, as if blood is boiling in her veins, and the demon laughs. He says something, lost amidst the ringing of her ears, the feverish gaps of consciousness. 

She raises her sword. 

She stabs through her stomach, into his chest.

She’s dropped to the ground as he reels back; already she has her sword out and, before he can get his bearings, she stabs again—this time, certain he breathes no more.

It’s only then she allows herself to collapse against a nearby tree, sword still clutched in a vise grip.

“Liú-Nǚgōngzǐ!?”

In an instant, Yuè Péng—who shouldn’t be anywhere nearby—runs towards her, helps lower her to the forest floor, presses a hand onto her wound. “Liú-Nǚgōngzǐ you’re alright! You’re fine! You’ll be okay!”

Liú Jiānghuá coughs up blood. She can feel qì roiling within her, dammed up and desperate for release—if she could just chip the slightest crack, if she could latch onto the slightest wisp, she’ll survive. 

“Help! We need help! Hé Zhèng hold this, I’m getting help!” Yuè Péng grabs Hé Zhèng’s hand to replace his, further staining her once-pristine uniform, and sprints deeper into the forest.

“Are you kidding me—idiot! Fuck! The second he could’ve been useful he runs in the wrong direction!” Hé Zhèng presses Liú Jiānghuá's own hand to her wound. “Stay awake! Keep your hand there, push down as hard as you can! Don’t go anywhere! And don’t die!”

“I won’t,” Liú Jiānghuá says, but before long she’s dragged against her will deep into a dreamless sleep.


	4. 一 | first meeting, unwanted debt

Astonishingly enough Liú Jiānghuá is right. 

She wakes in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, surrounded by distinctly medicinal smells. The ebb and flow of qì circulates once more, but it’s somehow… wrong. Sluggish. It’s enough to soothe the aches that come from a hard-fought battle, but not enough to heal her wounds as quickly as it should. Which must be why she’s covered in bandages, a poultice bound over her stomach.

Who kept her alive?

More importantly, why?

Under the right circumstances her life could fetch a modest ransom. Only if her uncle were held to any accountability, of course—without any public knowledge, he could comfortably leave her to die. Then again, he could use the publicity of a paid ransom to cement to others just how much he cares for his darling niece.

Alternatively, the act of saving her life could be used as leverage, a debt to be repaid. Her skills make her a valuable asset. And it wouldn’t be too hard to twist that leverage; an innocuous request could be used as a front for an insidious trap set by her uncle. 

Or perhaps this is part of some larger, more convoluted plot involving her uncle. 

It takes a moment to realize her sword is still clutched in her hand. Either it couldn’t be pried from her grasp, or whoever it was that brought her here thought, in her current state, she would pose no threat. A foolish assumption.

Somewhere beyond the room, the sound of a door sliding open, then shut. Through the opaque screen a figure moves; the muted clatter of clay against clay. 

Carefully, Liú Jiānghuá makes her way to the side of the screen, and waits. 

The other figure steps into the room completely unprepared for Liú Jiānghuá's sword at their throat. 

“I’m unarmed!” the stranger yells, flinging their tray into the air. “Don’t kill me! I saved you! And I’m unarmed! Don’t kill me it’s dishonorable!”

Liú Jiānghuá catches the tray, along with all the jars that had also been flung into the air.

“…Wow! That was impressive!” The stranger—a demoness, roughly Liú Jiānghuá's age, and her clipped accent doesn’t escape notice—lets out a nervous laugh tinged with obvious hysteria. “Um, sword, the sword—?”

After a moment Liú Jiānghuá sheaths her sword. The demoness heaves a sigh of relief.

“So, I’m sure you’re confused,” she starts, cautiously taking back her tray, “and that’s understandable! I’d be confused if I woke up in a strange inn with a strange person! Especially with all the injuries you had, honestly, I wasn’t sure you’d make it—”

“How did I get here,” Liú Jiānghuá demands.

The demoness jolts, jars rattling. “Well, um, I was out in the forest, trying to find some ingredients—I’m an herbalist, there’s a lot of stuff here that’s hard to get in the south—when I heard fighting. So I thought, oh no! I should definitely leave! But then there were arrows everywhere, and I couldn’t tell where they were coming from, so I guess I must’ve gotten turned around because instead of running away I ended up where you were, and you truly are a great warrior to fend off such ferocious attacks, it was an astonishing sight and what a wound you gave yourself I couldn’t believe you survived but it looked like you wouldn’t for long so I was going to offer help but before I could both your companions ran off and I—”

“How did I get here,” Liú Jiānghuá repeats.

“Oh! Um, portal magic,” the herbalist explains. “I can make portals. Only over short distances, though, and I can only make so many in a day—it really tires me out. I brought you through one and into my room. It’s where all of my stock is. Thank goodness I had everything I needed, or you would’ve died!” A nervous laugh bubbles out of her, then fades to an awkward halt. “You were out for quite a while.” 

“How long?”

“Uh… about three days?” She tries for a smile, and misses the mark. “And you’re probably not at your best—whatever hit you really messed you up. It’ll be over a week before your qì gets balanced, which means you’ll probably need to reapply salve everyday until you start healing on your own. I’ve got some extra you can take.”

Being without full access to her qì isn’t ideal, especially around her uncle. If he found out… life could get a lot harder and a lot shorter. 

Of course, as the herbalist is probably working with him, he might know already. 

“Oh, but it’s good that you’re up, I was planning on leaving soon—I’ve got to head back to the capital. Since you’re not… going to die… I’ll just be on my way. Don’t worry about the room, it’s been paid for. Well, only for tonight, so if you stay any longer you’ll have to pay for it yourself, but if you need some money, I mean, I can’t give you everything I have, but I could probably spare enough for an extra night, you’ve obviously been through a lot…”

The herbalist trails off, fidgeting under Liú Jiānghuá's scrutiny. 

Liú Jiānghuá has had some passing experience with demons; moreso in her youth, but even out here the occasional demonic traveler passes through Tiěyáng. Out by the border, much of what is said about them are wild exaggerations or flat-out lies; demonesses in particular are praised for being exceptionally beautiful, some of them able to charm any mortal with just the barest hint of a smile. 

Not this one. Even with her branching antlers and scarlet skin, she looks fairly plain and obviously disheveled. Her entire demeanor speaks to someone unused to attention, a preference to be far from the spotlight. But, given the circumstances, being so unassuming becomes a suspicious advantage. 

Her attire—fine material, and from her sash hangs a jade pendant with the same insignia that adorns Liú Jiānghuá’s—offers an explanation for how she’s able to afford such a large room; perhaps she comes from nobility. But why would an herbalist that seems to be traveling alone need so much space? There are smaller rooms that are just as luxurious. This one seems big enough to take up half of the top floor, and her possessions take up a mere fraction of it. 

One visitor from the south would be business as usual, two a mundane coincidence. Five in such a short span of time, four of which tried to kill her, is far too suspicious. Liú Jiānghuá needs to figure out how much of a threat the herbalist is, and she needs time to recover—preferably, away from her uncle.

“Xiǎojiě[1],” Liú Jiānghuá says. The herbalist fumbles with her tray again, nearly dropping it. “You saved my life. I will be in your service until this debt is repaid.”

“What? Oh, no,” the herbalist says. “That’s—no, dàxiá[2] please calm down, that’s not necessary.”

“It is.”

“But—you’re injured, uh, your qì—”

“I can still fight.”

“Um… oh! You could’ve easily killed me earlier, but you didn’t! Not killing me saved my life, so debt… repaid…?”

The herbalist wilts under Liú Jiānghuá's flat, unwavering stare.

“I’m—I’m sure an accomplished cultivator, such as yourself, would be far too busy to accompany an unimportant herbalist on inconsequential errands,” she says, clearly desperate to be rid of her healed patient, which only cements Liú Jiānghuá's determination to not let that happen.

But she does raise a point.

“I need to stop by the post office,” Liú Jiānghuá says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] xiǎojiě - 小姐 - miss, young lady  
[2] dàxiá - 大侠 - great warrior, hero
> 
> that's not necessary - 不 勢在必行, 'not' + 'imperative or necessary under such circumstances'


	5. 一 | couriers face devastation

“I owe xiǎojiě a life debt. I’ll be absent for the coming weeks.” 

“Is that so.” Her uncle—Liú Xián [1] , courtesy name Míngyǔn [2] —takes the news with a mild interest. In all honesty, such a development might fall in line with his plans; there have been times he has not-so-subtly pushed for Liú Jiānghuá to seek glory at the capital (as all great warriors do), graciously offering to take on her imperial responsibilities should she choose to depart. Only until she returns, naturally.

“Um,” the herbalist says, shrinking further into herself after getting their attention. “it’s fine, really, no debt needed and no need to force it, I didn’t do much—”

“Don’t be so modest, what you did was no small feat. Truly, I’m grateful you were there to save Ā-Yù’s [3]  life.” Of course he is. “It’s just a shame about the package—”

“The package has arrived safely.”

“…Explain,” he says, obviously taken aback by Liú Jiānghuá’s interruption. 

“You anticipated a particularly dangerous delivery. We used a decoy.” Her uncle should expect this development by now; for every attempt at sabotage (from misfiled paperwork, to bribed guards, to beasts let loose in the city) Liú Jiānghuá has always managed to do her job. “I’ve confirmed that the original package has arrived safely after being sent with the mail carriage.”

And her uncle laughs, a perfect performance of relief. “Quite a risk, but it appears you made the right decision. We’re lucky to be guided by someone with such foresight,” he praises. “As difficult as it may be without you, I’ll ensure everything runs smoothly—”

“You will,” she says.

“In the past five years, there has not once been a compromised delivery through Tiěyáng,” she says.

“Imagine the attention one such incident would bring, failing to protect the interests of the empire in my absence,” she says.

There’s a tense silence as she holds his gaze. 

“How considerate.” He smiles at the herbalist, a pleasant expression. “I do hope you’ll take care of her—as you can see, this city would be quite bereft without someone like Ā-Yù.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” she says, offering an uncertain grin of her own. It pales in comparison to his manufactured charisma, much too honest to be convincing. “She won’t be gone too long.”

With that out of the way it’s finally time to leave her uncle’s office. The second they do, Liú Jiānghuá is set upon by two very emotional couriers.

On one side: “Nǚgōngzǐ!” Hé Zhèng cries, eyes flooding with the threat of tears. “Where were you! Where did you go! I was losing my mind, you just disappeared!”

On the other side: “I knew it!” Yuè Péng shouts, relentlessly shaking Liú Jiānghuá by the arm. “I knew you’d survive! What did I tell you! Xiao-Zhèng, you can’t underestimate our Liú-nǚgōngzǐ!”

“What did you tell me? How could you tell me anything? You were crying for three days straight!”

“Not so! It was two at the most.”

Hé Zhèng rolls her eyes, completely giving up on her senior. “Anyway, I’m glad to see you’re alright.” She wipes her face in her sleeves, pulling herself back together. “Is this always so dangerous? I don’t know how you do it.”

“Well,” Yuè Péng drawls, uncharacteristically somber, “it’s… usually not this bad. Sometimes there’s a beast blocking the way, or a couple bandits that run off the second they see how strong Liú-Nǚgōngzǐ is. Someone really must’ve wanted that package destroyed.”

“Fuck! The package! My first job! Fucking shit!”

“It’s fine,” Liú Jiānghuá says. And, after explaining the situation, Hé Zhèng calms down.

“Thank goodness.” She leans heavily against the wall. “Alright. Okay. It’s fine.” After chanting that to herself a few more times, then taking several deep breaths, she clears her throat and bows. “Nǚgōngzǐ. Thanks for taking care of me on my first job. I look forward to working with you.”

“How touching!” the herbalist says. “What wonderful colleagues you have! Wouldn’t it be devastating to leave them behind?”

“I’ll be gone the next few weeks,” Liú Jiānghuá says, immediately devastating them.

“What!” Hé Zhèng yells as Yuè Péng stands beside her, for once shocked to silence. “Why! What’s going on! And who are you, anyway! How long have you been here!” 

After a few more explanations, Hé Zhèng doesn’t calm down at all. “You saved our lives,” she accuses. “Does that mean we follow you now?”

Surprisingly, Yuè Péng recovers enough to pull his junior out of Liú Jiānghuá's personal space. “Wǎnbèi[4], let it go.”

“And will we really be alright without you?” Hé Zhèng continues, not letting it go. “Maybe it’s not usually so dangerous, but it was pretty dangerous this time! Who’s to say it won’t be just as bad while you’re gone—”

“It won’t,” Liú Jiānghuá says.

“You can’t know that!?”

“If she says it won’t, then it won’t.” Yuè Péng gives Hé Zhèng’s shoulder a light pat. “Xiao-Zhèng, by now you should have a lot more faith in Liú-Nǚgōngzǐ. She’s always right, you know. There, there, you don’t have to look so sad, it’s just goodbye for now! Not goodbye forever! We’ll surely meet again.” Then, he turns to xiǎojiě. “Thanks for taking care of our Liú-Nǚgōngzǐ. Look after her, alright?”

“Oh,” she says, looking startled to be addressed. “Um. I’ll do my best.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Liú Xián - 刘賢 - he was so close with the family he took his dear departed wife's name; 'xián' is worthy/virtuous  
[2] Míngyǔn - 明允 - 'míng' can have a lot of meanings actually, bright, clear, to understand, next, etc; 'yǔn' can mean just (in the righteous sense) or to allow  
[3] Ā-Yù - 啊愈 - 'ā' as a suffix is very familiar and used among family, 'yù' (to heal) is liu jianghua's given name  
[4] wǎnbèi - 晚辈 - junior
> 
> no need to force it - 顺其自然


	6. 二 | journey’s outset, introduction, second instance of a debt unpaid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy yall. Over the course of two months I kept running into walls for part two but then just now rewrote it all in two days. 
> 
> Anyway, edited a bit of part one, here’s some patch notes:  
-changed spiritual energy to qi  
-changed xj's description from horns to antlers  
-added inconsistencies
> 
> honestly everything posted is subjected to change, haven't really even finished the editing stage for pt 2 yet (lol)

This has not! Been! A! Good! Day! Or week for that matter! Month, even! Year, maybe? Life just isn’t going well and it looks like that’s not about to change anytime soon! Saving a beautiful (terrifying!) cultivator should’ve been its own reward—would’ve been a perfectly fine reward!—but everything’s… even more complicated now that an unwanted bodyguard (the worst possible person it could’ve been) has decided to tag along. One who, as it turns out, doesn’t even know her own savior’s name, considering that’s just what she just asked for?!  
  
“Um… my name is Xiāo Jié[1].”

Liú Yù stares, stone-faced as ever. Well, to be fair Xiāo Jié only has the past four days to go by (three of which Liú Yù spent comatose). Ah, this is too much; sure, there's no need to revere the village idiot, but being beautiful shouldn’t give her a free pass to put the person who saved her life in such an awkward position!! 

Then again, her life wouldn’t need saving if not for Xiāo Jié in the first place… but that’s… beside the point…

“It’s actually kind of funny,” Xiāo Jié continues, because unfortunately that’s just how she is, “I thought you knew? Which doesn’t make sense since I never got to introduce myself, plus you were saying it a little weird, but close enough, right? Oh, my courtesy name is Xīn[2], but you can keep calling me Xiāo Jié, I don’t mind. And dàxiá is Liú Yù, right?”  
  


“Liú Jiānghuá,” she corrects.

In a fit of wisdom, Xiāo Jié drops the topic. Liú Jiānghuá it is!

…

Is she mad? She might be mad—it’s hard to tell. Would it kill her to emote a little!? It’s certainly killing Xiāo Jié! And it’s really going to be a whole two weeks of this, isn’t it!

Not for the first time (and certainly not the last) Xiāo Jié curses the limits of her portals. Maybe if she was stronger she could get them both clear to the other side of the country (without almost dying) and avoid the heavy awkward atmosphere that comes from having to spend an extensive amount of time with someone she’d rather not be with! Or at the very least, she could take herself far enough that Liú Jiānghuá wouldn’t be able to immediately catch up. Not that it matters since she already knows where Xiāo Jié is heading. Shit! Shouldn’t have told her. Would’ve been better to leave the second she stopped trying to kick down death’s door.

As it stands, Xiāo Jié can only resign herself to a miserable silence suitable for such a miserable journey. They manage to get through the edge of the forest in pretty good time, at least. Soon enough, the path narrows; on one side a vast meadow blooms, and on the other a steep slope dips into a wide river that meanders below. Fishermen dot the water’s edge, a few waving up at them. Those fishermen weren’t nearly as friendly when Xiāo Jié had been coming in! Which… understandable. From what she’s heard, Liú Jiānghuá has helped them out more than a couple times; expelling dangerous beasts from the area, saving lives through astonishing feats of strength and courage, a cold and ruthless beauty that defends the weak… 

But still! The bias is quite transparent, huh?

“So,” Xiāo Jié says, when she can’t stand the miserable silence any longer. She’ll take misery without silence, thanks! But first she needs something to talk about. “Your sword,” is the first topic that comes to mind, “it’s obviously very precious to you. Such a practical design! Simple and straightforward, something many cultivators seem allergic to. If I may ask, what is it called?”

“Sword[3],” Liú Jiānghuá says.

“No, I mean, what’s the name of your sword?”

“Sword,” Liú Jiānghuá repeats.

Xiāo Jié stops in the middle of the path. “Your sword is named… Sword…?”

Liú Jiānghuá's lack of response is confirmation enough.

“That’s such a waste!” Xiāo Jié shouts, startling a few birds into the sky and a few fishermen into the river. “Simplicity doesn’t have to be devoid of elegance! Of course not every sword has to be called something like Blood-Soaked Blade of Righteous Light, a heavy-handed name wouldn’t suit a cultivator that exudes your refinement, but the name of your sword should at least be evocative of your beauty and strength!” Sword!? Seriously, Sword!? It’s more than a little disappointing! Sure, a lot of Xiāo Jié’s information comes from novels (which no doubt take a number of artistic liberties) but is the gap between romance and reality truly so large? If life can’t accommodate at bare minimum poetic sword names rife with symbolic meaning, that would just be too sad! “Divine Flower could have been good. Or, oh, Still Waters, that one really suits you! And while Cutting Through Darkness is a little more generic on its own, if it’s you—”

Wait a second!

Hold on!

What! Is! She! Doing! What kind of idiot gets carried away like that! “Sorry! Sorry! Ignore me, I’m getting ahead of myself.” Xiāo Jié laughs, stilted and awkward, backing away from Liú Jiānghuá and—just her luck—into an irate passerby.

“Watch it!” the human snaps, shoving her aside, and Xiāo Jié lets out a startled yelp as she loses balance, arms pinwheeling in a desperate bid to regain her footing as she careens over the edge of the steep slope—

Liú Jiānghuá grabs a flailing wrist and pulls her forward.

“Oh,” Xiāo Jié breathes, clutching at Liú Jiānghuá’s shoulder with her free hand. Unfair! Too unfair! “Wow, uh, thanks. That would’ve been bad.” Or—she could’ve used a portal, couldn’t she. Still, that kind of fall could’ve easily led to a broken leg, which would not have been fun at all.

Wait!

Xiāo Jié casts a smile, and try as she might, it probably comes across slightly shaky and strangely desperate. “So, life debt repaid?”

“…No,” Liú Jiānghuá says. Then, “Your pendant is gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Xiāo Jié - 萧杰 - mournful/dejected + outstanding/remarkable/heroic (lmao). irony aside, mostly chose it for the xiǎojiě/Xiāo Jié coincidence.  
[2] Xīn - 昕 - dawn. but also Xiāo Xīn kinda sounds like xiǎoxīn/小心 (be careful!)  
[3] decided that sword would be named 剑/jiàn, but using the Chinese wouldn't get the impact of 'you named your sword Sword!?'
> 
> Also, I have 3k drafted from LJH's pov because I really legitimately did not think I'd do a pov switch until I rewrote the entirety of pt 2 in two days. here's the original ending of this chapter:
>
>> Xiao Jie casts a shaky and strangely desperate smile. “So, life debt repaid?”
>> 
>> “...No,” Liu Jianghua says, as she contemplates letting her fall.
> 
> revere the village idiot - remix of 敬老尊贤 (respect the old and wise), so 敬幼尊愚 (respect the young and stupid). I had to ask my mom for help with this. 


	7. 二 | the journey interrupted

“…Well, that’s a shame,” Xiāo Jié says. Convincingly! “If it’s like this, dàxiá, there’s no point in following me—I’ve disgraced myself beyond redemption. The second I get to the palace they’re probably going to kick me out for losing something so precious.”

Liú Jiānghuá stares, looking a little… well, she doesn’t look like she’s about to say so long. Instead, she says: “I’ll get it back.”

And off she goes! No time for protest! Plus she’s still holding Xiāo Jié’s wrist which means 1) no chance for escape, 2) being dragged along by someone much faster. Spare some mercy, please! Not everyone has ridiculously long legs! An accomplished cultivator can easily weave through crowds with skill and precision, but where does that leave the clumsy herbalist that's crashing into every passerby!?

It takes a while before Xiāo Jié is even able to catch a glimpse of whoever Liú Jiānghuá is chasing. Not a very good one—now that they’ve passed the river they’re in another forest, and the figure takes the opportunity to duck out of the paved path into a thick line of trees.

Stupid thief! If a crowd of moving obstacles doesn’t work, why would a bunch of stationary trees be any different!

Of course, it doesn’t take too long for the thief to run out of steam and get cornered against a steep line of rock.

“Give it back,” Liú Jiānghuá says, evenly, while both Xiāo Jié and the thief are still gasping for breath. The thief—not yet able to speak—makes an ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ kind of gesture, which is pretty bold!? Actually, the thief looks no older than a teenager. Ah, to be young and reckless, mouthing off to someone who clearly has the upper hand, it’s kind of refreshing—

Liú Jiānghuá stabs her sword a hand’s width from the thief’s head, blade buried halfway to the hilt into solid stone, that’s… quite the show of strength…

Wait no that’s going too far!! Intimidation tactics don’t need to be so intimidating!!

“Dàxiá!” Xiāo Jié protests—once she’s caught her breath—pulling Liú Jiānghuá away from the obviously frightened youth. “That’s no way to treat a child! You—you have to be a good role model. You can’t teach them it’s okay to threaten to get what you want! It’s our duty as adults! After all, you’re… how old?”

“F-fourteen!?” the thief answers.

“No, I meant—”

“So I’m not a kid! And I won’t give it back!”

“Well, um, that’s okay—”

“It’s not,” Liú Jiānghuá interrupts. Stubborn! Way too stubborn! But she’s not making any move to make good on her threat, which… is to be expected. What kind of righteous cultivator would raise their hand in earnest against a child?

In any case, looks like it’s up to Xiāo Jié to resolve this impasse. She clears her throat. “Why don’t we hear this little thief out? Ah, could we have your name?”

“…”

Apparently not!

“Why do you need my pendant?” Xiāo Jié tries.

“…”

Liú Jiānghuá walks over to the little thief and effortlessly pulls her sword out of the cliffside.

“Can I hire you!?” The little thief blurts out.

…What?

“I took the pendant because—because it’s important, which means it can be sold for a lot, and I need money to hire someone who can slay a beast! But if you let me hire you I’ll—”

“Wait, wait, wait, you were going to sell this?” Xiāo Jié asks. “That won’t work.”

The little thief bristles, looking both aggrieved and confused. “Important people have them, which means it’s something people want! Which means it’s something I can sell!”

This kid… is just too clueless. Xiāo Jié heaves out a sigh and gestures at the pendant clutched in the little thief’s hand. “Feel the bottom.”

“… It’s bumpy,” the little thief notes.

“The pendants aren’t just pendants, they’re seals. This has my rank, as well as an identifying character since I’m not from an important family. Herbalist six, that’s me. Here, look—dàxiá, let me see that—hers has her family name carved into it. Now, not every noble has one; that would be a lot of pendants! Just a single representative of the family gets assigned one, which means each pendant is matched with a specific person. It’s pretty easy to trace these to their owner. Because of that, everyone worth selling to would know to stay away from them. When they’re sold to the black market it’s usually for political purposes, like identity theft, or to disgrace a specific family, but my pendant just isn’t important enough; all the leverage it has is getting one lowly herbalist kicked out of the outer palace, and who would pay for that? If you were to sell this, your best bet would be to file off the bottom, maybe find some way to change the design so it can just be sold as a regular pendant, but that method does damage it, which—unless you’re a very accomplished sculptor—makes it less valuable…”

Both Liú Jiānghuá and the little thief are staring at her, speechless. Well, Liú Jiānghuá doesn’t really talk anyway, but… hm! It’s probably weird for Xiāo Jié to know all that, isn’t it.

“So, that’s something you definitely shouldn’t do, because stealing is wrong.”

“Wait,” the little thief starts, “if it’s so bad to lose, why wear it out in the open?”

“Strength and respect,” Liú Jiānghuá says.

Which is a pretty lackluster explanation—those who wear the imperial seal are supposed to be strong enough to fight off any theft, but also respected enough that no one would dare! Which, well, doesn’t usually work out, considering the current situation. Plus, most people wear it just to show off.

“What beast?” Liú Jiānghuá asks.

Beast?

Oh, right!

“There’s a beast that won’t leave my village,” the little thief explains. “We’ve had to evacuate, and there’s not enough money to hire someone strong to get rid of it, not even if we put together everything all the villagers have… so if you guys take care of that, I’ll give back the pendant!”

Little thief… what kind of leverage is that when Liú Jiānghuá can very easily take it back by force? But such tenacity is admirable, in a way. Stupid, but admirable.

“A beast, huh…” Xiāo Jié says. “What kind?”

“A big one! With something hard that covers its skin, but it’s not scales? Kind of like armor. It’s got tusks the size of my arm!”

“Armor? Tusks?” Xiāo Jié asks, training her full attention onto the little thief. “How big is it?”

“Three times as tall as me, but the legs are really short—”

“Armored boar,” Liú Jiānghuá says.

“Armored boar!” Xiāo Jié shouts. She grabs hold of Liú Jiānghuá's arm, swinging it back and forth with all her strength (not much). “I need! Its blood!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spare some mercy, please! - 慈悲为本, lit. 'mercy as the guiding principle' and according to standard mandarin dot com 'the Buddhist teaching that nothing is valid except compassion' lol
> 
> stealing is wrong - don't 顺手牵羊 - 'lead away a goat in passing' like using an emergency to steal for personal gain


	8. 二 | a brief rest

After calming down (and apologizing profusely), Xiāo Jié decides the best course of action is to rest for the day and head out later that night, much to the little thief’s dissatisfaction. Hey kid, preparations have to be made! An armored boar is no joke! Also, they’re not nocturnal; it would definitely be better to go up against one that’s drowsy rather than one that’s wide awake!

The next town over is small enough that it’s a miracle it even has an inn. Though, ‘inn’ is a generous description; it seems to be a house with a couple spare rooms and a slapdash sign proclaiming it to be ‘Number One Inn’. Whether that’s the name or a dubious boast is unclear. Xiāo Jié pays for lodging (fending off Liú Jiānghuá’s attempts to split the cost) and goes for the most expensive room the inn has to offer. Which doesn’t actually cost much.

“I thought you said you weren’t a noble,” the little thief accuses, once they’ve settled in.

“I’m not?” Is this what extravagant spending looks like to the little thief? Getting the only room large enough to comfortably accommodate three people? The gap between living in the city and living in the country sure is a vast one. “I really am just an herbalist. Scholar of the empire, you know? All we get is the uniform and a nice rock.”

“Scholars are nobles, aren’t they?”

“Usually, but not always. And that means the pay isn’t so great, honestly, because the empire expects your family to be loaded, so it’s really just a status thing. Right now I have enough money to avoid camping in the wilderness because, well…” Ah, this is just too awkward. Should she lie? It’d probably be really obvious if she lied. “My father passed away recently.”

“…Condolences,” Liú Jiānghuá offers.

“Thanks.” Xiāo Jié tries for a smile, and probably fails miserably. “The money he left is practically all I have to remember him by, but it’d be pointless to save it. I’d honestly rather be rid of it all.”

“What’s up with that?” the little thief asks, clearly scrambling for purchase during this sudden emotional whiplash. “If you want to get rid of it so badly how about giving it to me, huh?”

“Well, sure, if that’s what you want—”

“What!? No! That was a joke! I’m not going to steal from someone who just lost her dad!”

It’s very tempting to glance at the pendant still clutched in the little thief’s hand. So tempting, in fact, that Xiāo Jié does. Sorry!

The little thief hesitates a bit before holding out the pendant. Little thief has quite the conscience! But Xiāo Jié shakes her head.

“You can hold onto that,” she says. “Honestly, I should be thanking you—finding an armored boar out here is quite the stroke of luck!”

“Luck,” the little thief repeats, deadpan. Ah, right, that’s probably not what someone would want to hear after their village gets upended.

Anyway!

“The blood of an armored boar can be used in practically everything,” Xiāo Jié’s quick to explain. “It’s good for experimenting with! When combined with the right stuff, of course. It’s really effective for burns, poison, qì deviation[1]—“  
  
“Qì deviation?” Liú Jiānghuá asks.

“Yeah! Qì deviation usually requires a skilled cultivator to siphon off the excess energy and clear the meridians, but the blood of an armored boar can be used in mixtures that suppress qì, which is useful if there isn’t another cultivator in the area. And even if there’s a cultivator, if they don’t know what they’re doing they can make things much worse. But people don’t usually carry around medicine that suppresses qì because the blood of an armored boar is just one rare ingredient of many. For anything that deals with qì, all the ingredients are either really expensive to get, or it takes a long time to get them. If it’s not something from a dangerous beast, it’s something like… a leaf from a tree bathed in moonlight for no more or less than a hundred days. Right to the hour! And that’s not even getting into how particular measurements and mixing times can get. Which is a shame; it’s so hard to experiment with anything that affects qì. Oh, speaking of—”

Xiāo Jié unpacks her medicine, setting aside a menagerie of salves and ointments. “We should change those bandages!”

“What bandages?”

The little thief gets an answer immediately as Liú Jiānghuá starts to disrobe, and Xiāo Jié instinctively turns away. Have some modesty! Or, wait, everything is covered by gauze anyway, but… still! Xiāo Jié needs time to prepare her heart!

“Are you going to be okay?” The little thief asks, apparently not aware of Liú Jiānghuá’s injuries? Huh. Surely that must’ve come up at some point.

“I will,” Liú Jiānghuá assures. And she’s right! Everything’s healing pretty well; perhaps more slowly than she might be used to, but definitely faster than the average human… probably. Humans are pretty slow to heal. As long as she doesn’t strain herself too much, and as long as she doesn’t stab herself through the stomach again, she’ll be fine aside from her qì—that’s still going to need another week or two to fully heal. Which won’t be a problem as long as everything goes according to plan!

Now that salve’s been applied, all that’s left is to mix up what’s needed for the armored boar. Which has to sit for a few hours. Annoying, but at least that gives time for Liú Jiānghuá to rest up and let the salve take effect. Maybe there’s even enough time to write a letter, too; Bǐngbing[2] would probably want to know a little about what's been going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] if you know xianxia you probably already know about qi deviation but basically it's when qi gets unbalanced (sometimes through mystical means, sometimes through improper training, sometimes because of Too Much Emotion) and it's like. self-destruct. or something. 
> 
> [2] This is a nickname - went with 邴邴 (Bǐngbing) (happy)
> 
> preparations have to be made - 枕戈寝甲, 'to sleep on one's armor with spear by the pillow', be ready for battle
> 
> quite the conscience - 不愧不怍 - 'no shame, no subterfuge', so 'just and honorable'
> 
> prepare her heart - 净心修身 - 'to have an untroubled heart and behave morally' god that's way funnier in chinese


	9. 二 | herbalist’s idiocy; debt still unpaid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rules for reading:
> 
> 1) if you’ve gotten this far you gotta tell me everything, Every Single Thing, that you liked (not really but please)
> 
> 2) if you didn’t like it at all you are legally obligated to pretend you didn’t read a single word (this one’s for real)

Okay! Everything’s ready! Finally!

And about time, too—it’s late, late enough that little thief looks ready to nod off. Aren’t kids supposed to be full of energy? It’s been a while, but Xiāo Jié definitely remembers pulling several all-nighters in her own youth. Not that she wanted to, but still.

It would be nice if little thief could stay at the inn and rest up, but alas, they need a guide. This village is practically in the middle of nowhere! Doesn’t even show up on maps! Honestly, it’s hard to even notice any of the paths the little thief leads them down. No wonder no one’s been helping with their armored boar problem.

The farther west they go, the more damp it gets. Humidity clings to the air, dripping off wetland vines, and the trees around them gradually become more swamp-like. It feels pretty gross to walk through. People live in this? Apparently so, according to the buildings that come into view.

And there’s the armored boar! Asleep, just as it should be! Brazenly resting in the middle of the village—settled low into the earth to keep its soft underbelly safe—and next to it are some… very destroyed buildings. Sorry little thief, there’s not much to be done about that now.

Xiāo Jié motions for her companions to wait and be quiet, and she sneaks up to the armored boar, occasionally slipping into swamp water rather than stepping on dry land. Gross.

Looking at it from up close… armored boars are certainly… large. Coarse fur peaks from beneath its armored plates, and its tusks gleam in the moonlight. But it’s fine! Xiāo Jié takes out a small knife, and, very carefully, sticks it between two plates of the boar’s armor. A thin trail of blood drips down, into a waiting jar, because might as well! Waste not want not. While that’s filling up, she takes out the salve she’s had to rush to make—which, ideally, should’ve had more time to sit, but she’ll work with what she has—very gently working it under the plated armor and into the open wound.

Satisfied, Xiāo Jié finishes up and heads back towards where Liú Jiānghuá and the little thief are waiting. Now all that’s left to do is wait for that to kick in!

Except.

A low growl fills the night air. Bright golden eyes are, unfortunately, open and staring right at her.

The armored boar rises to its full height—not that much taller—and charges towards Xiāo Jié, who can’t help letting out a small shriek as she fumbles with her jars.

Liú Jiānghuá jumps in front of her, raising Sword to meet the full force of the armored boar. She holds steady, digging her heels into the damp dirt; even though the shock of it must jolt up her injured arm, she grits her teeth, pushes back, and the boar stumbles.

What strength!

But no, Xiāo Jié can’t get distracted—as strong as dàxiá is, it’s much too difficult to tip an armored boar over thanks to its inconveniently stubby legs. So now that she’s got the chance, Xiāo Jié sprints away!

“What the—where are you going!”

Little thief, don’t yell! Xiāo Jié's trying not to get distracted!

“Dàxiá!” she shouts, once she’s probably far enough. “Sword! Throw it!”

Liú Jiānghuá… doesn’t throw Sword! At least, not immediately. Which, well, it kind of makes sense because without Sword she’d have to fend an armored boar bare-handed, but come on! What about the plan!

“Trust me!” At the very least, trust the plan!

Finally, after jumping away from the armored boar, Liú Jiānghuá throws her sword.

Xiāo Jié shrieks, then grabs the space in front of her and—pulls—it—apart—

Liú Jiānghuá's sword sails through the pure black void, and the armored boar—almost upon her—suddenly careens to the side, falling over with a squeal, limbs flailing helplessly, sword buried to the hilt in its stomach.

Liú Jiānghuá makes her way to the beast and pulls her sword out. She carves into its heart, putting it out of its misery.

“You have portal magic,” Liú Jiānghuá notes. Which means… she didn’t know for sure…? Well, she wasn’t conscious when Xiāo Jié brought her to the inn—and thank goodness for that—but…

If Xiāo Jié didn’t have her portals, she’d be dead!? What on earth was Liú Jiānghuá thinking!?

Before Xiāo Jié can get too caught up in these thoughts, the little thief runs up and… punches her! In the shoulder, and not too hard, but what!?

“Why didn’t you tell us what your plan was!”

Huh!?

“I did!?”

“You didn’t!”

She didn’t?

Maybe… because she wrote it in the letter… she forgot they… didn’t know…

Oops.

“It worked out perfectly, at least! Well, not perfectly, the boar wasn’t supposed to wake up—that complicated things—but we did it! Ah, we should bring the rest of your village over, shouldn’t we? I’ll need help properly taking this thing apart, and selling off the blood, meat, bones, all that should help get you guys money for repairs! Everything’s fine, right?”

Little thief mumbles something clearly to the contrary, but not anything Xiāo Jié can hear. Then, louder, “I thought you’d run away after getting your blood…”

“And let all this go to waste? How—“

“No, I mean, earlier…”

Huh?

Huh!?

Little thief, what has Xiāo Jié done to get such an unfavorable impression! Which isn’t necessarily unwarranted, but… are children these days really so cynical?

“Um… I had to get enough distance so I had enough time to open a portal,” Xiāo Jié explains, belatedly. “I can’t just hold one open and wait for dàxiá to throw her sword, you know? Takes too much energy. Originally, I wanted to wait until the paralyzing agent set in so dàxiá could just stab into a portal without the armored boar waking up and running amok, but, well, that didn’t work out… Oh! Dàxiá, Sword sailed through the air with such elegant precision! Was—is there a name for that technique?”

“Throwing.”

“I… I see…” Xiāo Jié clears her throat. “Well, thanks for the help. I would’ve been in trouble if you weren’t here! So… life debt repaid?”

Liú Jiānghuá stares for a moment, wearing an unreadable expression. “You wouldn’t have died from that,” she says.

“No, no, I’m pretty sure I would have…”

But Liú Jiānghuá is stubborn, and soon enough, Xiāo Jié drops the subject. She’ll just have to keep putting herself in life-threatening situations, apparently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another tidbit from the original draft:
>
>> Liu Jianghua overcomes the powerful urge to call Xiāo Jié an idiot.
> 
> full of energy - 朝气蓬勃, full of youthful energy
> 
> in the middle of nowhere - 前不着村，后不着店, lit 'no village ahead, no inn behind'
> 
> there’s not much to be done about that now - 亡羊补牢, 'to mend the pen after sheep are lost' which is more of a better late than never thing (I think?) so it'd be kind of adjusted to 'all they can do is 亡羊补牢'
> 
> What on earth was Liú Jiānghuá thinking!? - 无的放矢, lit. 'to shoot without aim' fig. 'to speak without thinking' which is admittedly a bit of a stretch but the literal meaning just really grabbed me lol


	10. 三 | the journey continues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> patch notes (very extensive):  
-added tones; originally took 'em out bc I wanted to lean into homonyms but now I'm like naaahh  
-literally just a few minutes before typing this out I was like wait a second why am I using roman numerals for a chinese story and just changed them all. kind of torn between parentheses, period.... dash..... | <- this thing.... think I'm gonna stick with this for now but we'll see  
-this is probably the biggest change and more of a note to myself but I went back and like... added idioms at the end of the notes because - follow me for a second here - in my head xj is the type to use, reference, or remix chengyu but I don't actually know a lot of them but if I ever wanted in the far far FAR FAR **FAR** future work on a chinese translation for this I have notes for future me. if I ever put down one that's actually super wrong or not really used..... listen...... don't judge I'll just ask mom for help later

Xiāo Jié continues to be a deeply suspicious individual. She’s also, as it turns out, either a magnificent actress or a genuine idiot.

Someone this incapable of masking familiarity with criminal dealings would not be anyone’s first choice as co-conspirator. But if she were acting purposefully careless… that would certainly be impressive tactical foresight. Which isn’t entirely impossible. The way she organizes the villagers betrays a certain degree of competence; she directs her interim assistants with confidence, providing detailed instructions on how to properly extract and store the most valuable parts of an armored boar, dismembering its corpse with startling efficiency. She doesn’t neglect to provide the village head with information on the usage of each piece, market prices, where to sell, and—once she thinks Liú Jiānghuá is out of earshot—where to absolutely never, under any circumstances, sell (unless they want a lot of trouble). Clearly she has enough knowledge to be a threat.

However. This line of reasoning is difficult to maintain when her carelessness passes any reasonable threshold for playing the idiot. Such as when Xiāo Jié decides that storing as much blood as she can carry is worth the sacrifice of her flask, then—not ten minutes later—absently uncaps the flask and raises it to her mouth. 

“What are you doing!?” Zǐ Xiáng[1] shouts as Liú Jiānghuá’s hand shoots out to cover the flask.

Xiāo Jié blinks, astoundingly clueless. “Huh?”

“It’s blood,” Liú Jiānghuá says.

“It’s what?”

“Blood! It’s blood!” Zǐ Xiáng repeats. “You filled it with blood!”

“…So I did!” With an embarrassed laugh, Xiāo Jié caps the flask and lets it hang from her waist, still in the perfect position for her to absently grab when she inevitably forgets again. 

Which seems to catch Zǐ Xiáng’s notice. They let out a huff of what looks like amusement. “Liú-dàjiě[2], are you sure you haven’t paid back that debt of yours tenfold by now?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to—wait, you know about that, little thief?”

“Of course I do,” Zǐ Xiáng says. “And who are you calling little thief, huh? I gave the pendant back, didn’t I?” They did. “I apologized, didn’t I?” They did not.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m not mad! Water under the bridge! But you never told us your name—”

“Zǐ Xiáng,” Liú Jiānghuá interrupts. Then, at Xiāo Jié’s dumbfounded expression, “They introduced themself while you were working.”

“Oh yeah, that makes sense… you guys were waiting on me for a while…” Xiāo Jié stifles a yawn, and it occurs to Liú Jiānghuá that between preparing for the armored boar, facing the armored boar, and dismembering the armored boar, Xiāo Jié hasn’t had the chance for a full night’s rest.

Perhaps, in this particular instance, it isn’t idiocy. Perhaps it’s exhaustion. Which opens the possibility that any recent incompetence can be attributed to lack of rest rather than lack of conspiracy.

“Well,” Xiāo Jié says, “we’re just about done here. If you have any problems you can send a letter to the palace. Wait, I never introduced myself—”

“No need,” Zǐ Xiáng interrupts. “Xiāo-jiě[3], right?”

“...Why is she dàjiě while I’m just jiě?” Xiāo Jié frowns, completely derailed from her original thought by such a minute detail. “We’re around the same age. In fact, I’m probably older. Dàxiá, what year were you born?”

“Ox.”

“I’m two years older! I could be calling her dàxiá-mèimei[4]!” she exclaims with inexplicable triumph. Then, after glancing at Liú Jiānghuá, “Um. Never mind that. Forget I said anything. Where can we buy a horse? A carriage too, preferably?” And, as she waits for an answer, Xiāo Jié’s hand drifts towards her flask once more.

Holding back a sigh, Liú Jiānghuá presses her own flask into Xiāo Jié’s hand. Maybe drinking some water will help her wake up.

“We don’t have anything like that here,” Zǐ Xiáng says, which isn’t surprising. “But I know a shortcut to the next city. I can probably get you there before the sun sets. Actually, didn’t you travel up from the capital? How did you get so far north without a horse?”

“Well I…” Xiāo Jié stalls, obviously taken aback by a reasonable line of questioning. “I didn’t… I, uh… I mean, of course I had a horse! Just one! Because I was traveling alone! All the way from Xìngnán[5]! But I lost it.”

“...You lost it,” Zǐ Xiáng repeats. It’s hard to tell whether the look on their face is that of doubt or pity.

“It got stolen. By bandits. That’s what happened.”

…Xiāo Jié really is too suspicious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Zǐ Xiáng - 紫 祥 - purple + auspicious  
[2] dàjiě - 大姐 - big sister, respectful  
[3] jiě - 姐 - big sister but more casual. the most cutesy one would be jiejie  
[4] mèimei - 妹妹 - little sister, cutesy  
[5] Xìngnán - 興南 - 'prosper' + 'south'
> 
> Do I need to go into detail about the zodiac? twelve year cycles based on the lunar calendar, each year is an animal. LJH is ox so if XJ was born two years before she was born in the year of the pig but this is because I glanced at the wheel and was like 'oh ox and rabbit would work I guess' then realized I was reading it the wrong way. oops. in the first draft I was like oh god I need to have an in-universe historical marker so I can bring up age in a roundabout way but then I remembered that one lesson years ago where the teacher was just like oh yeah we just ask each other 你属什么 like dang nice that makes it easier
> 
> Water under the bridge - 事过境迁, 'the issue is in the past, the situation has changed'


	11. 三 | arrival

A brief list of noteworthy but ultimately useless observations during the (surprisingly) uneventful weeks of travel:

  * Xiāo Jié has never handled a horse in her life.
  * Xiāo Jié sleeptalks. Unfortunately, not about anything important.
  * Xiāo Jié, when pressed, excuses her more peculiar behaviors as “just a demon thing, don’t worry about it!”
  * Xiāo Jié writes letters almost daily. When asked, she only says she’s writing to a friend at the palace and does not elaborate.
  * Xiāo Jié has an extensive list of businesses to avoid. It seems as though every city they pass through has some restaurant, tea parlor, or inn that is—according to her—absolutely no good, the service is terrible, everything is of astonishingly poor quality, best not to even look at it. Upon further investigation, all of them have been fronts for money laundering.
  * Xiāo Jié attempts to spin any mundane assistance received into a life debt repaid. This has been easy to address. What hasn’t been as easy to address are her genuine fits of carelessness; no bowl escapes a negligent elbow, and countless lamps are casualties to her antlers.

But they both arrive unscathed, despite Xiāo Jié’s best efforts.

Liú Jiānghuá has been to Xìngnán, capital of the Shénxià Empire, exactly once before. She only has vague memories of the rush, the crowds, the palace eclipsing the horizon… but nothing more than those faint impressions. Not much seems to have changed; it’s just Tiěyáng but bigger, with more humans and much more demons wandering around. Though, where Tiěyáng is surrounded by mostly flat forests, Shénxià’s sprawl is hindered by western mountains and a southern shoreline.

After Xiāo Jié sells the horse and carriage, they enter the outer palace. A more accurate descriptor might be calling it the palace district; lodging is provided for palace workers by the empire, but certainly not within the palace. Those dorms—divided by seniority and vocation—are built just outside. Xiāo Jié explains all this as she leads Liú Jiānghuá down a winding path between a multitude of buildings until they reach the door to what is, presumably, her room.

Just as she’s about to open it, Xiāo Jié’s hand stills and something like panic flickers across her face. “…Dàxiá, you’ve kept me alive the whole journey back—can’t we consider this debt repaid?”

“No.”

“Of course not…” She sighs. “You wouldn’t consider sleeping at an inn for tonight, would you?”

Liú Jiānghuá lets the silence speak for her.

“…Okay. Sorry, just, it’s little—no, it’s very messy. I had to leave in a rush. It’s not usually like this,” she claims in a way that suggests her room is, in fact, usually however it currently looks. Xiāo Jié’s attempts to stall the inevitable peters out, and resigned, she opens the door. Her pack is slung none too gently towards the foot of the bed. It’s truly miraculous how everything in it remains intact.

Xiāo Jié’s room looks like the aftermath of a hurricane. Papers and jars are scattered across every available surface; the bed seems to have an outline of space just big enough for her to collapse into, which she does. 

“It’s only because I had to leave in a rush,” she says into her comforter, a half-hearted defense.

“…What for?”

“Oh, nothing important. Anyway, it’s lucky for you that you’re rooming with a senior herbalist,” Xiāo Jié says, a transparent deflection. She starts gathering up all the notes littered across her bed. “Unlike apprentices, we get a spare room for the retinue I don’t have. Which is why a lot of my then-peers were angling for this position. When they found out who was getting it—a nobody without a single attendant—they raised quite the fuss! But only so many can get a promotion, so too bad for them. I’m sure you can imagine how cramped and destitute those poor sheltered nobles must feel. Their optimism, though, it’s truly astounding; how can you aim for senior herbalist barely knowing a salve from a solution? Seriously, given their ignorance, abysmal study habits, and overall ineptitude, apprentice is much too grand a title for them. Not that it matters; the majority of them missed our promotion exam.”

“They missed the exam,” Liú Jiānghuá repeats.

“It was surprisingly easy—I mean, they’re nobility, shouldn’t they be better at dealing with sabotage?”

…Could someone like this really be conspiring with Liú Jiānghuá’s uncle?

“I—I mean—” Xiāo Jié jolts up and laughs, somewhat hysterically, waving sheets of paper in the air as if to wave away what had been a fairly incriminating admission. “That was a joke!? Nothing shady happened. Forget I said anything.”

“…Palace politics don’t concern me,” Liú Jiānghuá says, and Xiāo Jié heaves a sigh of relief. 

“Right, right.” She nods to herself absently. “Being senior herbalist isn’t so bad. Better pay. More ingredients I don’t have to buy myself. Less people asking if I know what I’m doing. I’ve been studying for thirteen years! I’ve been working at the palace annex for seven! Of course it makes sense for me to be a senior herbalist. Who cares if I’m constantly surrounded by spoiled nobles who expect me to do all the work. Plus, I guess it counts as dad’s last wish…” Then, after she seems to remember that her monologue has an audience, “I’ll, um, tidy up the spare room.”

As she leaves to do so, Liú Jiānghuá takes the opportunity to examine the area more thoroughly. A quick glance over some papers reveals notes about ingredients, observations from experiments, and what appears to be letters to Xiāo Jié. It’s impossible to get a sense of what the letters might be about, as the characters are written with such violent imprecision it’s either unreadable or covered by stray ink splatter. Other than that, there isn’t much in the way of personal possessions, save for a vast amount of books filling three bookshelves beyond capacity; several piles are stacked on top of the shelves.

Liú Jiānghuá picks one up, flipping it open. She reads a few lines of a rendezvous by a river, helpless longing, overwhelming passion, when Xiāo Jié—apparently done with the spare room—shrieks, drops the armful of books she had been carrying, grabs the one out of Liú Jiānghuá’s hand, and throws it across the room.

“Dàxiá pay those no mind! Nothing of importance! Just some novels! I, uh, read a lot, as you can probably tell…” She laughs, edging in front of the bookshelves, as if her small frame could block them from view. “Um… do you?”

Aside from reports and paperwork, “No.”

“Ah, of course not…” Xiāo Jié busies herself with cleaning off the bed, mostly by shoving everything to the floor. “It’s—it’s a pretty useless hobby, isn’t it…”

“Who cares.” Liú Jiānghuá certainly doesn’t. “Do what you want.”

“What I want,” Xiāo Jié echoes, looking startled. Then, strangely enough, she sighs. “What a dangerous thing to say.”

Which is certainly an interesting reaction. Just as Liú Jiānghuá is about to probe further on the subject, someone knocks on the door, then throws it open. The demoness who storms in is one that fits the stereotype of demonic beauty. A calligraphy brush pins her hair into place.

“Oh, Bǐng-jiějie[1]!” Xiāo Jié greets. “It’s been so long!”

The demoness fixes Xiāo Jié with a flat stare. “You came back.” 

She doesn’t sound pleased. 

Xiāo Jié laughs—a genuine one, for once. “Don’t be so cold, is that any way to treat your favorite herbalist?” 

“I don’t know, is it?” she snaps. “Would my favorite herbalist take off for weeks without warning? Would my favorite herbalist send a flood of letters without leaving any way to respond?”

This must be who Xiāo Jié had been writing to.

“Speaking of which,” she continues, taking a bundle of envelopes out of her sleeves, “I have something for you.”

“Huh?”

“Every letter I couldn’t send,” she explains. 

She slaps one against Xiāo Jié’s chest. “This one says ‘stupid’.” 

She does the same with a second letter. “This one says ‘idiot’.”

She does the same with a third. “This one says ‘moron’.”

“I get it, I get it.” Xiāo Jié rolls her eyes, grabbing the bundle. “I’ll read it all and properly reflect on my actions.”

“Don’t bother, we both know it won’t stick. Just tell me why you left.”

At that, Xiāo Jié stiffens. “What? Oh, uh, you know…”

“I don’t,” the other demoness says, apparently refusing to follow Xiāo Jié’s lead. “And I can’t help if I don’t know how. So tell me already.”

There’s a long pause as Xiāo Jié glances between her friend and Liú Jiānghuá. “Actually,” she starts, “there is something I really need you to do for me… could you get dàxiá signed in?”

The demoness’ already aggrieved expression turns thunderous. “Xiāo Jié you—!” 

“I think she’ll be staying for a while so she’ll need to be added to the palace registry, right? Oh, dàxiá, this is Bǐng Tiānhuá[2], Bǐng-jiějie this is—”

“I know who she is!”

“Sorry, I have to meet up with the head herbalist right this second, it’s super urgent, I’ve kept them waiting long enough!” Xiāo Jié opens a portal and disappears to who knows where, leaving Liú Jiānghuá alone with a very angry demoness.

“Little idiot, I’ll burn all your books! I swear I will!” Bǐng Tiānhuá shouts after her. After she seems to realize how pointless it is to yell at someone long gone, she turns her ire to the only other person in the room. “You’re just going to let her go like that!? Haven’t you spent enough time with her to know what a terrible idea that is?”

While Liú Jiānghuá can understand her frustration, there’s not much she can do. “I don’t know where she went.”

“Of course you don’t,” Bǐng Tiānhuá spits, as though that’s Liú Jiānghuá’s own fault. “Every day brings a new headache! You,” she points to Liú Jiānghuá, “come with me. I swear, if you make this any more of a hassle than it already is I’ll bury your corpse in paperwork!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] jiějie - 姐姐 - big sister in an informal and more cutesy way  
[2] Bǐng Tiānhuá - 邴天华 - bing is just a surname but I guess it can mean 'happy'; tianhua is 'heaven/sky' + 'flower'.
> 
> consider this debt repaid - 结草衔环, so like 'haven't you already repaid this kind act' type of vibe  
quite the crowd - 人山人海， 'people mountain people sea' basically just lots of people. this was the first chengyu someone taught me like two years ago  
useless hobby - 一文不值, useless, 'one word no value'  
properly reflect on my actions - 洗心革面, 'wash heart renew face'  
it won’t stick - 千虑一失, 'reflect a thousand times and still make one mistake'  
it's super urgent - 急如星火, 'as hurried as a shooting star'
> 
> also in my head when BTH is calling XJ little idiot she's saying 小笨/Xiǎo Bèn.


	12. 三 | departure

“As if I don’t have enough on my plate,” Bǐng Tiānhuá seethes, once she’s dragged Liú Jiānghuá to what seems to be an office. Paper starts flying as she throws open drawers and pulls out a series of heavy stacks; ink starts flying as she gestures furiously, arranging into surprisingly legible characters when it splatters onto the pages splayed out over her desk. It seems she has some control over water. “She keeps doing this! Oh, everything’s fine, huh? What’s fine!? Dealing with everything on your own is fine!? Disappearing for weeks is fine!? Disappearing for years is fine!? Little idiot when I get my hands on you—!”

As urgent as the situation seems to be for Bǐng Tiānhuá, there’s nothing Liú Jiānghuá can really do. She passes over her pendant whenever something needs to be stamped and fills out the myriad forms handed to her. It’s a lengthy process. Which is probably what Xiāo Jié had anticipated. 

“You!” Apparently done ranting, Bǐng Tiānhuá points her calligraphy brush towards Liú Jiānghuá. “Did you see anything suspicious while you were with her?”

“…Hard to say,” Liú Jiānghuá says. There’s too much that comes to mind. But here, it seems, is someone who can answer some questions about Xiāo Jié. “Is she involved with anything suspicious?”

“How should I know?”

Apparently not.

“But if she isn’t in trouble, why would she keep working at the palace? She’s miserable here. She’s only good at talking behind people’s backs! The higher up you go, you have to talk behind their backs _ and _ to their faces! So why…”

“She said it was her father’s last request,” Liú Jiānghuá offers.

“…Father? What father? Since when did Xiāo Jié have a father?” Then, after glancing at Liú Jiānghuá, “Don’t give me that look, he wasn’t around when I knew her. Shut up and hand over your pendant.” Then, after one last stamp, “Congratulations, you’ve been officially registered as Xiāo Jié’s retinue. Let’s get her before she gets into trouble.”

As it happens they catch her in what looks to be the process of trouble, apparently in the midst of an argument with a human in a scholar’s uniform. “I made enough to cover my trip, so it’s not really—”

“Xiāo Jié!” Bǐng Tiānhuá shouts, moving towards her target with somehow both poise and murderous intent. 

“Oh, Bǐng Tiānhuá,” the human greets, not looking alarmed in the slightest. “How’ve you been?”

“Shut up. Xiāo Jié, don’t think you can get out of this so easily!”

“Bǐng-jiějie, this really isn’t the best time…”

Bǐng Tiānhuá scoffs. “What, are you leaving again?”

“Um. Yes? Yes, I am,” Xiāo Jié decides, “but I’ll be right back! Just have to run a quick errand for Xíng-qiánbèi[1]!”

“Errand?” Bǐng Tiānhuá pivots to the human. “What errand?”

“We’ve run out of phoenix-killer feathers, and since Xiāo-wǎnbèi took leave we’re a bit short on our quota—”

“The logs should show I made ten batches of headache tonic, five batches of fever reducers, fifteen—” Xiāo Jié cuts herself off, obviously swallowing her agitation. “But, putting all that aside, I’d be happy to help.”

Bǐng Tiānhuá pinches the bridge of her nose. “Phoenix-killer? Steel beaked phoenix-killer? Are you kidding me? Xíng Zhìháo do you want to die? I’ll write up forms just to make your life miserable.”

“I’d rather you not,” the human says. 

“It’s worse than it sounds, really! Bǐng-jiějie, it’s worse than it sounds, isn’t it?”

“Do you know how hard it is to kill a phoenix?”

“Well—”

“Steel. Beaked. Phoenix. Killer.” Bǐng Tiānhuá enunciates each word with pointed precision. “Strong enough to fight a phoenix to exhaustion. With a beak sharp enough to carve, _ then cut, _ its core in half. Worse than it sounds? What part of it is worse than it sounds?”

Xíng Zhìháo shrugs, seemingly unconcerned. “Since it’s mating season she can just go to the nest while it’s out. There’s one in the royal forest, right at the gorge.”

“Is that her job?” Liú Jiānghuá asks with an eyebrow raised. It’s an errand better suited for an adventurer than an herbalist. And, from firsthand experience, Xiāo Jié can make terrible decisions under pressure. 

Admittedly… some good decisions.

But many terrible ones.

Xíng Zhìháo shrugs again. “I’m in a bit of a bind since we’ve ran out well before the next shipment’s supposed to come in. Maybe I could hire a couple of the rogue cultivators hanging around, but the paperwork—”

“No, no, it’s fine! After all, dàxiá can look out for me!” Which is a clear indication that Xiāo Jié is planning on some contrived danger. Again. “Who knows, maybe she’ll be free to go after this!”

“After all that work you made me do? She’d better not,” Bǐng Tiānhuá snaps, but it’s a far cry from the height of her adversarial tirade. All the fight seems to leave Bǐng Tiānhuá as she sighs, resigned to the current state of affairs. “Don’t stick around,” she says. “They’re territorial.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] qiánbèi - 前辈 - senior
> 
> free to go - 自由自在 - free and easy


	13. 三 | debt remains unpaid

“Sorry you got caught up with that,” Xiāo Jié starts, once they’ve left the palace. “Bǐngbing’s usually a lot more calm—”

“Is she,” Liú Jiānghuá can’t help interrupt. 

“Well, no, but our last reunion didn’t get so heated!” Xiāo Jié lets out a mournful sigh. “I wish I could’ve told her before I left, that’s probably why she’s so worked up. But it’s fine, she’ll get over it sooner or later. If she can get over ten years, she can get over three weeks!”

At this point it’s getting impossible to track all the suspicious details and inconsistencies casually thrown out. There’s just too much.

“If she stops talking to me, no one will listen to her complain about whatever novel of the day has her hostage,” Xiāo Jié continues. “And she can’t be too mad if she made a map for us.”

It’s a surprisingly good map, for something drawn on the spot and thrown at Xiāo Jié’s head.

“She’ll be fine by the time we get back though, she just needs a little time to cool down.” Xiāo Jié nods to herself, brimming with uncharacteristic confidence. “Honestly, considering you saved me from the worst of Bǐngbing’s temper, we could probably call that debt of yours even!”

“No.”

“I wouldn’t have died from that, huh?” Xiāo Jié says, echoing Liú Jiānghuá’s most common excuse. “Maybe not, but these things stack up, don’t they? If you count this, plus the time you stopped that cart from running over me, plus the time I almost knocked over that candle, plus…”

What follows is about an hour of Xiāo Jié’s attempts to rid herself of Liú Jiānghuá. Conversation aside, it’s somewhat of an interesting walk; Liú Jiānghuá had seen forests before, obviously, but nothing compared to what lay beyond the palace. Lush and green—excessively so—it seemed almost too carefully curated to be considered something as untamable as a ‘forest’. But no one could possibly tend to an entire forest, not even with all the resources and manpower of the empire. The extent the empire puts into its care is probably maintaining the borders and tossing in a rare beast every so often just to have one around.

After an age of an hour, they reach the nest. It’s further down on the other side of a deep gorge, nestled into the cliffside; even from a distance it looks rather large. 

Liú Jiānghuá’s qì is still too unbalanced to fly with, but it’s a jump she can easily make. Before she does, Xiāo Jié holds out an arm. “Dàxiá,” she says, “there’s really no point in you going—I’ll be right back!” 

With that, she pulls open a portal and steps through right into the nest. She waves to Liú Jiānghuá, in the distance appearing no larger than a doll, then starts to collect feathers.

Despite her assurances of not taking too long, she seems intent on examining every corner of the nest, and such a thorough commitment… takes time. Time Liú Jiānghuá occupies by doing simple exercises for honing qì in hopes of improving her recovery.

After as long as it takes to finish five sets, Xiāo Jié waves up towards her. “Dàxiá, I’m done! But I’m a little tired so I might need your help.”

It’s a predictable development. However, what’s unexpected—but somehow unsurprising—is the dot that appears in the distant sky, steadily growing in size. 

“Xiǎojiě,” she calls. Xiāo Jié continues yelling her overly convoluted reasoning about how this absolutely counts as saving her life and paying off their debt, which means she doesn’t notice the dot take on alarmingly birdlike features. “Xiǎojiě!”

Finally, she cuts off her own ramblings with a shriek as the steel-beaked phoenix-killer lands on its nest. She lets out another shriek as the steel-beaked phoenix-killer slams down its phoenix-killing steel beak towards her. Xiāo Jié at least has enough presence of mind to end her farce and pull open a portal—and she lands somewhere else in the nest. 

When the bird turns she pulls open another portal—and lands somewhere else in the nest. 

Then she pulls open another portal— _ and lands somewhere else in the nest. _

This happens several more times before Liú Jiānghuá shouts, “Stop making useless portals!” 

“Sorry! I’m sorry! I panicked!”

“Come back!” 

“I can’t!” Xiāo Jié wails. “It’s too far! I’m too tired!” 

And, as much as Liú Jiānghuá would like to believe that this is an extension of Xiāo Jié’s original plan, it’s starting to seem like yet another genuine fit of carelessness. “Jump!”

In the distance, Xiāo Jié dives to avoid another peck. “Too high! Way too high! I’ll break my legs!”

What optimism. From that height, broken legs would be the least of her worries. “I’ll catch you!”

“That! Doesn’t! Make! Sense!” But, Xiāo Jié is backed to the edge of the nest, and she seems to realize she’s out of choices. She shuts her eyes and jumps.

When Liú Jiānghuá jumps after her, it doesn’t take long to catch up; it helps that Xiāo Jié’s flailing wildly and catching some significant resistance from the wind. The second she’s in range, Xiāo Jié immediately pulls her close enough to cling to. Now, the matter of landing—if Xiāo Jié had any skill with qì, hitting the ground at the speed they’re falling wouldn’t be an issue, but the force of impact might be too much for someone with an untrained body. So Liú Jiānghuá unsheathes her sword and, at what seems like the right distance, stabs it into the cliff. Clutching the hilt, they swing around it once, twice, which is probably enough momentum used up; Liú Jiānghuá lets go before the third swing and lands lightly onto its guard. 

“… Is it over?” Xiāo Jié asks, her face buried into Liú Jiānghuá’s shoulder. An antler digs uncomfortably into her cheek. 

“The bird is still alive.” Sitting in its nest, so it doesn’t look like it’s about to go after them. Still, the possibility remains—

“No, no, it’s over!” Xiāo Jié grabs Liú Jiānghuá’s face and turns it away from the bird. “Don’t kill the phoenix-killer! I’m sure you could but don’t! We might need more feathers! And I think it might technically belong to the emperor!? It’d be a crime!” 

After a second Xiāo Jié clears her throat, lets go, and moves her arms back around Liú Jiānghuá’s neck. “Ah, sorry, that was rude of me. And after you saved me again, too…” she trails off, the unspoken question lingering in the air.

Liú Jiānghuá heaves a sigh. She doesn’t bother trying to hide it; Xiāo Jié can undoubtedly feel the rise and fall of her chest. These attempts at pushing her away are starting to seem like remarkably poor self-preservation. “You wouldn’t have died from that,” she says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> she'll be fine - 心平气和, 'tranquil and even-tempered'  
That! Doesn't! Make! Sense! - 岂有此理, lit. 'how can this be so' but fig. basically preposterous, absurd, etc.
> 
> [here's the songs I've been listening to while writing/for inspo](https://playmoss.com/en/kaji-dha/playlist/nfsftlots). also big thanks to april and liz and racher and lex for continuing to enable me
> 
> I think this is about the halfway point???? as this continues I think I'm finally accepting that the end result is probably going to be (hopefully) polished but still a first draft especially since I'm kind of swerving off the outline. though I will say. I've had that portal scene drafted for like four months. looking back I can't believe I seriously planned to write this all from ljh's pov. ljh is the hardest character archetype for me to write. it's like I try to describe something but I can't because ljh doesn't care and thus doesn't pay attention. and neither do I. I've played myself.


	14. 四 | all’s well that ends well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it really does take me a month to write ljh's pov and a week to write xj's.....
> 
> no patch notes but I forgot to mention that I found one of the songs on the playlist from [ grass mud horse](https://tobydo.itch.io/grass-mud-horse), a short five minute game about helping a director make a movie about lesbians and wuxia, which is something anyone reading this might be interested in. it took me longer than five minutes because I am bad at reading maps.

Xiāo Jié wakes up in her bed. Which is strange, because the last thing she remembers is asking Liú Jiānghuá how she’s going to get her sword back. Which means Xiāo Jié must’ve passed out? Then gotten carried all the way to the palace? And after causing so much trouble… more trouble than planned, that is. How embarrassing. And more than a little disappointing. What a waste, being held by a strong and beautiful woman and not being awake to appreciate it!

Well, although operation ‘get into a light amount of danger that can feasibly be framed as life-threatening’ has been a dismal failure once again, at least she got the feathers.

…

_ Did _ she get the feathers??

“Here,” Liú Jiānghuá says, handing over a handful. With how big and brightly colored they are it’s almost like a bouquet; the sight of it would suit a dramatic scene right from a romantic fantasy. Except, of course, for the fact that it’s a bunch of beast feathers, which—while generally considered less romantic than flowers—are generally more useful, unless the flowers happen to have medicinal properties, but those don’t tend to be so ostentatiously vibrant. Unless they’re poisonous.

“Wait,” Xiāo Jié says, undergoing the arduous ordeal of getting her own thoughts in order, “I need to get these to Xíng-qiánbèi!”

“Are you sure you can stand?”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry, it’s just a little exhaustion! I won’t be collapsing anytime soon.” Xiāo Jié wouldn’t dare get out of bed otherwise. Liú Jiānghuá already carried her for probably an hour! And of course Liú Jiānghuá is no doubt strong enough that such an endeavor wouldn’t be physically taxing but it’s bound to be more than a little annoying and there’s a limit to how thoughtless Xiāo Jié can be!

“Just go back to sleep,” Bǐngbing snaps.

“No, it’s fine, Xíng-qiánbèi needs—ah!” Xiāo Jié yells. “Bǐng-jiějie!?”

“Do you even know what time it is? Look out the window, will you?”

Oh, that’s definitely the night sky. Also, all the lamps in the room are lit.

“Not that I’m surprised,” Bǐngbing continues. “Learn your limits already.”

Which is a little unfair! Xiāo Jié knows her limits! She would’ve been fine if she didn’t panic in the nest! And it didn’t help that while those two were busy with paperwork she had to use more than a few portals to… settle some affairs. Clear out some hideouts. Get rid of some stuff. 

Xiāo Jié heaves out a sigh and bows her head. “Bǐng-jiějie, are you still mad?” she asks, just a little pathetically. 

“Furious,” Bǐngbing deadpans. “But if I push too hard you’ll just do something stupid. Again. So I won’t.”

Well! That’s a victory!

“Xiāo Jié.” The atmosphere goes kind of heavy, and Bǐngbing fixes her in what’s not quite a glare. “I wouldn’t be the woman I am today without your help.” Which—that’s far too much credit. She would’ve found a way to live as one even without Xiāo Jié around. “Know that I’m on your side, and I’m here whenever you’re ready to talk.” Then, Bǐngbing sighs. “Until that day comes, my actual job’s enough of a headache.”

Xiāo Jié nearly weeps with relief, praising the heavens for delivering unto her a change of subject. “What, more than usual?”

“A bunch of idiots keep trying to break into the records room. Probably some political bullshit no one cares about, but it’s a huge thorn in my side.”

…Fuck!

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! That—! 

Actually might not have anything to do with Xiāo Jié, right? Surely not every plot against the empire is related to Xiāo Jié, right?

“Should you be telling us this?” Liú Jiānghuá asks.

“Um! Dàxiá has a point?” Xiāo Jié offers in what hopefully is (but probably isn’t) a perfectly casual and natural tone. “This is sounding pretty classified…”

“Whatever.”

Bǐngbing please be professional!!

“Besides, what are you guys going to do? Take care of them? That’d certainly make my life easier. Actually—” she turns to Liú Jiānghuá “—I know babysitting Xiāo Jié is quite the commitment, but can I borrow you if I’ve got someone that needs a beating?”

“We’ll see.”

…When did these two start getting along so well??

“Oh, before I forget—” Bǐngbing reaches into her sleeve “—here’s a letter for you.”

Xiāo Jié can’t help but heave a sigh as she accepts it. “Let me guess, fool? Buffoon? Nitwit?”

“It’s not from me. Apparently someone passed it onto Xíng Zhìháo?”

“What incompetent delivery,” Liú Jiānghuá notes with some pretty obvious disapproval.

“Who would be sending letters? Maybe… Xiǎo-Xiáng? I hope everything went alright with the armored boar.” Xiāo Jié opens the envelope. It’s pretty nice paper, actually, and the calligraphy looks quite polished. Honestly everything about it looks far above her status. Maybe there’s been a mixup?

Xiāo Jié gets two lines into the letter before throwing it into the nearest lit lamp. It burns completely to ash in mere seconds. Out of sight! Out of mind!

Liú Jiānghuá: “…”

Bǐngbing: “…”

Xiāo Jié clears her throat. “Nothing important.”

“…I’ll let you get back to rest.” Bǐngbing stands, excusing herself, making good on her promise not to push. What a good friend! “Congratulations on your new assistant.”

“Thanks!” Xiāo Jié says. “Wait, my what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [sketched something a while ago before writing this](https://66.media.tumblr.com/5710421d4051f8bbcfa7c73f46787611/e8821913c3fc1610-bb/s540x810/721bb9d795c0391f03db134417680ac724a2f98b.png)
> 
> causing so much trouble - 呼风唤雨  
dismal failure - 一败涂地  
dramatic scene - 风流韵事  
arduous ordeal - 千辛万苦  
That's a victory! - 转败为胜  
on your side - 情同手足  
incompetent delivery - 偷工减料  
Out of sight! Out of mind! - 眼不见! 心不烦!


	15. 四 | reunion somewhat overdue

Xiāo Jié has an assistant now? 

Technically? 

Which has been pretty helpful the past few days, considering she basically disappeared for three weeks and has to make up for all that work even though she knows it’s logged that she made enough ahead of time to cover her absence, which means someone (or several someones) slacked off on their quota and just took some of Xiāo Jié’s stockpile, not that Xíng Zhìháo cares enough to look into it because it’s not about who makes what it’s about what gets made! And Xiāo Jié! Has! To! Make! It! All!

So having an assistant is quite helpful!

The problem is… being a lowly herbalist’s assistant is an absolutely criminal misuse of Liú Jiānghuá’s competence! Strength! Beauty! And Xiāo Jié can’t handle being officially considered her boss! Because! There’s something very definitely not right with that arrangement, isn’t there!? Sure, before they got to the palace Liú Jiānghuá didn’t seem to mind handing over ingredients when Xiāo Jié asked, but there’s a vast gulf between assistance and assistant! 

Well, aside from the unforgivable waste of Liú Jiānghuá’s expertise and the pervasive discomfort of this ill-suited hierarchy, there’s actually a bigger problem.

When? Will?? She??? Leave????

Life debt? Repaid! Several times over! Plus, by now her wounds (physical and spiritual) should’ve definitely healed!

“Xiǎojiě.”

And Xiāo Jié can admit that she hasn’t really been the best at, um, not being suspicious, but should it really matter at this point?? It has nothing to do with Liú Jiānghuá! At least, it doesn’t have to! For now! Probably! Hopefully!

“Xiǎojiě.”

That snaps Xiāo Jié out of her thoughts. “Huh? What?” 

“It’s getting late.”

Apparently late enough for them to be the only ones left in the workshop. Which doesn’t actually mean much because her peers are in and out all the time, plus they generally leave well before sunset.

Looking out the window, it is well after sunset.

“Don’t overwork yourself,” Liú Jiānghuá says.

…Is she annoyed? She must be—who wouldn’t, after a full day of nothing but reaching jars off tall shelves and channeling qì into whatever’s shoved her way and being subjected to incessant chatter about what’s being made. If only Xiāo Jié could read minds! That…! Would be a nightmare, actually. Thank goodness she can’t read minds. But it sure would be helpful to look into Liú Jiānghuá’s head! Maybe then she’d know what to do.

Well, right now what she needs to do is lock up. So she does. She can probably finish up in the next few days, because the workload for seniors truly is a light one.

Then, just as Xiāo Jié’s about to ask Liú Jiānghuá what she’d like to do for dinner—“Liú-nǚgōngzǐ!”

It’s…! Some guy. Who she doesn’t really recognize until she sees the courier girl standing next to him, so he’s probably her senior?

What were their names?

Ah, it’s been a month, how can Xiāo Jié remember that far back? There was way too much going on.

“See?” the senior says, elbowing his junior. “I told you we’d meet again!”

“Yuè Péng, Hé Zhèng,” Liú Jiānghuá greets. Saved! This humble herbalist offers much gratitude for nǚgōngzǐ’s gracious intervention. “What are you doing here?”

“Letter for Xiāo Jié,” Hé Zhèng explains, holding up the letter in question. “Qiánbèi heard some rumors and thought she might be who nǚgōngzǐ was with. So he insisted on a personal delivery. On our own time. Which is not allowed.”

“Xiǎo-Zhèng, of course, fails to mention her own excitement at the prospect of a reunion.”

“Qiánbèi. I’ll kill you.”

The senior grins, unconcerned at what sounded like a pretty overt threat. “You won’t!”

Xiāo Jié’s happy for their reunion, she really is—friendship is a beautiful thing!—but… how many more letters must Xiāo Jié endure!? If she gets even one more she’ll just! 

She’ll have to!! 

Endure it as always.

But, as despondent as Xiāo Jié is, she perks up when she actually sees the name of the sender.

“Oh! Xiǎo-Xiáng!” After a brief skim, Xiāo Jié passes it over for Liú Jiānghuá to read. “Repairs are going well. Also they hope you’re keeping me out of trouble. Which, that’s a little rude isn’t it?” And why'd Xiǎo-Xiáng assume they'd still be together?

“Repairs?” Hé Zhèng asks.

“Armored boar,” Liú Jiānghuá explains. But maybe ‘explains’ is too strong a word for her two word description.

Before Xiāo Jié can go into further detail, Hé Zhèng’s senior lets out a low whistle. “Liú-nǚgōngzǐ fought one again?” 

“Yeah, right after leaving—wait, again?”

“She’s fought one years ago,” he says. Then, to Liú Jiānghuá, “You always end up in these situations, don't you. Oh!” He presses his fist to an open palm in revelation, a bright grin on his face. “You could tell us over a drink! This is the first time we’ve been able to meet off duty! We should celebrate and catch up.”

…Wait! Isn’t this a huge opportunity?

“You must miss her a lot,” Xiāo Jié says, nodding maybe a little furiously. “I can't imagine how tough it must be without dàxiá. You guys must’ve been very troubled.” 

How about it Liú Jiānghuá!? Aren’t these precious friends missed!? Doesn’t it feel terrible, knowing they’ve been fending for themselves in a harsh and cruel world!?

“No trouble, no trouble,” he dismisses, refusing to cooperate. “Just some low-tier bandits, people Xiǎo-Zhèng could’ve scared off. And she has!”

“I have,” Hé Zhèng confirms with pride.

“Your uncle hasn’t been hiring any heavy-duty muscle to hassle us since you’ve left, so I’m pretty sure he’s just keeping up appearances.” 

Everyone stares. 

And stares.

And keeps staring.

Eventually, Yuè Péng seems to notice that everyone has gone quiet and is staring at him. “…I mean, we all knew about that, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> while writing this I made a note to myself to keep track of what's going on in everyone's head re: ljh's relationship with the couriers
>
>> XJ: wow they're her very good friends  
YP: wow she’s my very good friend  
HZ: I’ve exchanged maybe a grand total of fifteen words with her and she’s the coolest person I know  
LJH: my coworkers.
> 
> always get to slack off - gotta remix 孜孜不倦 at some point. maybe 懒懒有倦？？？ note to self ask mom lol  
criminal misuse - 割鸡焉用牛刀  
nothing to do with - 事不关己  
too much going on - 杂乱无章  
gracious intervention - 恩比天大  
Endure it as always - 忍辱负重  
celebrate - 吃喝玩乐  
huge opportunity - 良辰吉日 


	16. 四 | clarifying questions, drinking companions

“Good pick, xiǎojiě, good pick!” Yuè Péng says, eyeing the spread of food and wine abundant across their table. They’ve all been successfully relocated to a dining parlor with private rooms after the group (correctly) decided the uncle conversation isn’t one that should be had in public. “Quite the hidden gem! How’d you find it?”

“Oh, back when I was a junior I’d come here a lot because this place—” hires beautiful women. Xiāo Jié can’t say that. “—has good wine.”

“Here, here! Good wine and good company make for the perfect night, doesn’t it? And—” he grabs some dumplings “—can’t forget good food!”

“About what you said,” Liú Jiānghuá prompts.

“Which one? Good wine? Good—”

“About my uncle,” Liú Jiānghuá clarifies.

“Oh, of course!” Yuè Péng laughs and finally continues their previous topic. “I still can’t believe it! All this time you thought I didn’t know? I told you I was on your side! I said I’d do anything I could do to help!”

“…Thought that was gratitude,” Liú Jiānghuá admits. Then, to Xiāo Jié and Hé Zhèng (the half of the party completely out of the loop): “For the first armored boar.”

Which doesn’t explain anything.

“She was incredible! Still a teenager—”

“A month from twenty.”

“—and she bested the boar, swooping in just as it was about to trample me! I was mere seconds from death!”

“He wasn’t.”

“She cuts quite the dashing figure! And certainly, being saved by a rampaging boar struck a deep impression, but it didn’t quite manage to distract from uncle’s plotting, especially with how many minor disasters happened over the years. No other cities had so many bandit attacks.” Yuè Péng turns to his junior. “Xiǎo-Zhèng, you need to pay more attention—you seriously didn’t realize he was the one behind it all?”

“Give me a break! I saw the man for a grand total of five minutes! And I knew there was something shady, I just didn’t know how far up it went!”

“Wǎnbèi…” Yuè Péng shakes his head. Hé Zhèng glares in a way that seems to indicate she really truly wants to punch him. “You’ve got a long way to go if you can’t see what makes the most sense.”

“How does it make sense!?”

“Narratively speaking of course,” he reasons. “It’s always the uncle, isn’t it?”

“Don't mix your novels with reality!”

Okay, alright, so it sounds like he only knows vaguely that something’s going on, not any specifics. That’s probably fine, then.

“Don't be like that—xiǎojiě noticed didn’t she? Look! She’s not surprised at all!”

Yuè! Péng! Don't bring her into this!

“…It was just so obvious,” Xiāo Jié says. “What novels do you read?”

“Read? No, he writes.” Hé Zhèng rolls her eyes as she loads her plate with more food. “Don’t get him started. He never shuts up about his muse. Seriously. Never.” 

“Ah, Xiǎo-Zhèng, I can’t help that my heart beats for handsome men!”

“I can,” she deadpans, then takes a bracing gulp of wine. “My heart beats for no one.”

And while there are far, far,  _ far _ more important things to worry about, Xiāo Jié can't help glancing at Liú Jiānghuá… who isnt looking at her, until she is, and this was a mistake! What a dangerous topic! “I have a friend who writes!” Xiāo Jié blurts out. “She can be the same way! Except she’s a fanatic for mystical beasts! Can’t get enough of them!

“Bǐng Tiānhuá?” Liú Jiānghuá asks. “How did you two meet?”

Which is… a weird question, isn’t it? Or, not really, but it’s kind of a small-talk topic, which don’t really seem to fit her interests.

Well. Xiāo Jié doesn’t particularly mind talking about it. Except she kind of does but she brought it on herself, and at least they’re not talking about plots and uncles. So she downs all her wine in one gulp. It’s disgusting. Not because it’s of poor quality; it’s definitely good wine. Wine is just disgusting.

“She showed up one day asking for some information about herbs,” Xiāo Jié starts. “I was only an apprentice at the time, but I knew enough to help her out.”

“Oh, childhood friends?” Yuè Péng leans in with the nosiness of a seasoned writer.

“I guess you could say that? I must’ve been around thirteen at the time. She’d help when I went foraging, and I’d let her pick out whatever she needed.” Now that the wine is setting in, the words come easier; she tops off her own cup, and out of habit, everyone else’s as well. “Her village was a decent walk from mine. They didn’t have an herbalist over there, so she’d basically come over at least once a week. It was nice. But I kind of messed it all up.”

“What happened?”

This time, Hé Zhèng does punch Yuè Péng in the arm. Her cheeks are flushed with what looks like both rage and alcohol, so it seems the wine’s hit her as well. Ah, a fellow lightweight. “How’s that your business, huh? Can’t you be sensitive for once in your life?”

“It’s fine,” Xiāo Jié says. Her cup’s empty again. She fills it up, slightly unsteady, but manages not to spill anything. Which takes all her concentration but that’s alright. “There was something I thought was over with, but it turns out it wasn’t. So I left. Without saying goodbye, too. Isn’t that awful? And yet, against all odds, we’ve managed to meet once again.” The wine tastes sweeter now; still unpleasant, but more bearable. “A second chance isn’t something to squander. I’ve been trying to make up for it. But I’m still the same person I was back then, and I’ll make the same mistakes I always do. So now what?”

“…Talk to her,” Liú Jiānghuá says, taking Xiāo Jié’s cup before it can be refilled. 

Which some pretty familiar advice, isn’t it. And not one she’s willing to tackle without more wine on hand; if she can’t get another cup, she’ll just take a bottle. “Bǐngbing put you up to that, didn’t she.”

The look Liú Jiānghuá shoots her way is vaguely disapproving, but it’s hard to tell whether that’s in response to Xiāo Jié’s accusation or her drinking habits. “I have eyes.” She sure does! Beautiful ones. “There’s no need for you to fight alone.”

And Xiāo Jié can’t help but laugh at that. “You two are pretty similar; neither of you knows when to give up!” And this isn’t a very fun conversation, so she takes a long gulp straight from the bottle. “I’m trying, I really am, you know? But there’s only so much I can say and so much I can do. Things would’ve been easier if she stayed mad and cut all ties.”

There’s a sniff, and when Xiāo Jié looks over, Hé Zhèng is furiously rubbing her face into her sleeve.

“…Oh!” Xiāo Jié awkwardly places what’s hopefully a comforting hand onto her shoulder. “I’m just bringing down the mood, aren’t I. Sorry about that.”

“Fuck you! Don’t apologize! You can be sad!” she shouts, which is a little confusing. “It just looked like you wanted to cry is all!”

Which is… very moving! Extremely touching! To think someone would shed tears over her! What a tender heart! It’s enough to get Xiāo Jié teary-eyed herself! “Xiǎo-Zhèng!”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Hé Zhèng!”

“Yeah that’s fine!”

“You truly have a kind soul!” Xiāo Jié says emphatically, clutching at the hand of her new drinking companion! She might’ve overturned some plates in the process.

“Yes, yes.” Yuè Péng tries to wrestle the bottle out of Xiāo Jié’s grasp, but that’s her bottle! He needs to get his own! “We should probably be wrapping up now, shouldn’t we? Let’s get you all some water.”

“Wrapping up!” Hé Zhèng, unlike her senior, grabs a bottle of her own, like a reasonable person. “Who’s wrapping up, huh? We’re just getting started!”

“Yeah!” 

“Please give me the bottle.”

“No!” Xiāo Jié and Hé Zhèng yell simultaneously.

“Liú-nǚgōngzǐ please help!!”

But the thing is, it’s been so long since Xiāo Jié’s let loose! She’s sick of it! Tonight she’s going to let loose and nothing’s gonna stop her!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> seconds from death - 九死一生  
obvious - 显而易见  
What a dangerous topic! - 岌岌可危  
messed it all up - 乱七八糟  
against all odds - 神差鬼使  
A moth drawn to flame will end up as ash - 飞蛾扑火 /自取灭亡  
give up - 心服口服


	17. 四 | no more wine, several more problems

Xiāo Jié should not have let loose.

Of course, there’s a not insignificant amount of regret over how much she spilled her guts about dumb stuff that shouldn’t have been anyone else’s business. That’s a given. And it’s pretty worrying that she can’t remember how she got to bed (which is becoming an unfortunate pattern). But honestly what’s at the forefront of her mind is how much she feels like death. Thankfully, a pitcher of water and an empty glass had been left on the desk by her bed. Having to pour water seems like a lot of extra work; she drinks a bit from the pitcher, just enough to feel a little less like death. Which still doesn’t help her pounding headache, a rhythmic, frantic, thump-thump-thump—

Wait.

Isn’t that her door?

With insurmountable effort, Xiāo Jié rolls off her bed and onto the floor, undergoing the enormous ordeal of dragging herself into what could be generously described as ‘standing upright’. Somehow, she manages to make her way across the room. She opens the door, ready to very politely tell whoever’s ruining her day to leave her alone, and finds herself face to face with Bǐngbing.

“Xiāo Jié. I may have fucked up.”

…

Um.

That’s not… the best thing to hear first thing in the morning.

“Hold on,” Xiāo Jié says. She pulls open a small portal, reaching through so she doesn't have to walk all the way back for the pitcher. And standing kind of sucks. Might as well sit on the floor while she chugs some more water.

…Ok! That’s better. 

“What does this have to do with me,” she says. And in hindsight that sounds pretty bad but Bǐngbing knows what she means.

Bǐngbing heaves a sigh, closing the door behind her as she joins Xiāo Jié on the floor. “So. A little while ago I ran into Liú Jiānghuá, and apparently whatever happened last night gave her a lot to think about.”

That doesn’t bode well!

“Not that she said anything. That’s just the impression I got. She asked if I’d gotten anywhere with that whole break-in problem and I mentioned that we’ve narrowed down their camp to somewhere by the cliffs—”

“How did you know!?” Xiāo Jié interrupts, which is! Somewhat incriminating! Definitely a mistake! Unless Bǐngbing takes it to mean ‘wow, incredible work!’ instead of ‘that is secret information that should not have gotten out’.

“Xiāo Jié,” Bǐngbing says in a tone that dries up any hope of that, “I made a promise to you and you are making it very hard to keep.”

“Sorry. Thank you.”

“Anyway. We’ve gotten reports from some of the rogue cultivators up there. I was going to see if they’d help, except Liú Jiānghuá just took off before I could say anything about that.” 

“Well… the cliffs are a good distance away,” Xiāo Jié reasons. “She could just be on her way back… or she could even still be on her way there…”

“She could, but what worries me is that she seems the type to be more than a little reckless.” Bǐngbing fixes Xiāo Jié with a pointed not-quite glare. “I’ve had practice picking up on that.”

Bǐngbing, please. There’s no way Xiāo Jié could ever measure up against Liú Jiānghuá in any capacity. But that aside, calling Liú Jiānghuá reckless would… not be wrong. She’s been generally strong and skilled enough to overcome whatever stands in her way, but someone who inflicts a near fatal wound onto herself without hesitation is… well… it makes sense to worry.

“She’s probably fine,” Xiāo Jié says, trying to sound confident and reassuring. She probably doesn’t. “Even if she was in trouble, she could get herself out of it.”

There’s a distant echo of what sounds like an explosion. Looking out the window, up on one of the mountains overlooking the palace, there’s a plume of smoke spiraling lazily into the air.

“…That’s her, isn’t it,” Xiāo Jié says. It’s not a question; it’s a certainty.

Bǐngbing mutters something under her breath, brow furrowed in thought. “Alright, I’m pretty sure I know where that is—probably a three hour hike, considering neither of us are extraordinarily gifted with strength, speed, or stamina.”

…

Liú Jiānghuá is probably fine. She is absolutely, definitely, more likely than not, fine. No one up there should be any match for her. Not that Xiāo Jié knows any of them personally, but none of them have been able to brute-force their way past palace security, so they can’t be that strong.

But… things… can happen…

It would probably be easier to just usher Bǐngbing out and go. Easier in terms of avoiding questions, that is, and easier to keep her uninvolved. But, pointed observations aside, Bǐngbing really has been keeping her promise without keeping her distance. And despite all the effort to keep her out of the loop, Bǐngbing’s already somewhat involved.

Not to mention, it would probably be best for Xiāo Jié to have backup in case the trip is a little too draining; otherwise she’d be rushing in just to be dead weight.

So Xiāo Jié opens the window. “Bǐngbing,” she says. “Will you come with me?”

Bǐngbing stares at her. “…Feels like yesterday you couldn’t even get up a roof,” she says, and something like regret flashes across her face. “Count me in. I’d kick your ass if you went alone.”

Well, at least that’s one thing no one has to worry about!

Xiāo Jié squints into the distance. It wouldn’t be a good idea to aim right for the smoke; who knows what they’d land in. So she picks a cluster of trees nearby, not too close, not too far, and distinct enough to pick out. Anywhere vaguely in that area should be fine. With that all set, Xiāo Jié links arms with Bǐngbing and rips open the space in front of her.

Although it’s a bit tiring, going through a portal isn’t so bad. At least, not for Xiāo Jié, but then again she’s had her whole life to get used to the split-second vertigo and the sensation of concentrated space buzzing against her skin. And she’s used to less-than-graceful landings. Bǐngbing, on the on the other hand, stumbles to her feet, holding her hand to her mouth, but she doesn’t barf like she usually does so good for her!

“Hate that,” she says, once she’s steadied herself. “Alright let’s check it out.”

They make their way carefully towards the dissipating smoke, keeping alert and trying not to make too much noise.

Which is proven mostly pointless when they arrive at the clearing. There’s a group of maybe twelve—some demon, some human—tied up and tossed to the side, the majority of them knocked out. Every so often there’s a quiet groan of pain. Xiāo Jié doesn’t recognize anyone, which means none of them would probably recognize her, so that’s good.

Over by the outskirts of the camp, Liú Jiānghuá’s locked in combat with a spear-wielding human, one who’s obviously outmatched; Liú Jiānghuá moves with precision and grace, her parries immovable, her guard impenetrable, her strikes impeccable. The way she fights is effortless, much different from how she is when she’s pushed past her limit, but still beautiful—like something out of a fairy tale.

But, um, by the looks of it Liú Jiānghuá is very definitely being maneuvered to the edge of the cliff.

An exchange of some sort happens, probably the human crowing some sort of taunt or triumph. Which is when she’s supposed to turn it around, right?

Except… she jumps!?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spilled her guts - 大放厥辞  
feels like death - 一病不起  
insurmountable effort - 惨淡经营  
That doesn't bode well! -凶多吉少  
reckless - 不知死活  
dead weight - 烂泥扶不上墙
> 
> ok no clue when the next part will be done wish me luck


	18. 五 | some hours before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey part 5 isn't actually. done. but the first two chapters are. and they've got one of two moments I've written this entire story for. so I had to post. in honor of femslash february.

“Thank goodness.” Yuè Péng heaves a sigh, clearly relieved now that Xiāo Jié and Hé Zhèng have exhausted themselves into drunken slumber. An understandable reaction; neither of the two lightweights allowed for a moment’s rest while on their rampage of wine-induced emotional turmoil. But, as chaotic as the evening has been, it’s also definitively confirmed a growing suspicion—at this point Xiāo Jié’s behavior can’t be justified solely by performance. 

She really is just like this. 

“That herbalist of yours sure has been through a lot, hasn’t she? Oh, speaking of, congratulations!” Yuè Péng holds out a small package wrapped in paper; red, lightly textured, clearly high quality. Something Liú Jiānghuá did not order. When she doesn’t take it, he reaches over, maneuvers one of her hands palm-up, and places the box on top. “Don’t give me that look, what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t get you a present? It’s late, I know—I would’ve gotten something sooner if I knew you were eloping!”

…

Of all the miscommunications that have apparently plagued her working relationship with Yuè Péng, there are some Liú Jiānghuá must concede responsibility for. This… can’t be one of them. 

“We’re not,” she says.

“Not—not friends!?”

“Not eloping,” she clarifies before he can burst into tears; at this point they could probably be called friends.

“Ah.” Considerably calmer, Yuè Péng starts noding. Then stops. “Wait, you’re—but she—” he gestures vaguely to where Xiāo Jié’s arranged herself across Liú Jiānghuá’s lap. “Didn’t you fall in love after being tenderly nursed back to health? Didn’t you pledge a life debt just to stay by her side?”

Perhaps an overactive imagination is a peril of being a writer. “No.”

“Then, you really are coming back to Tiěyáng? Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to see you on the route, but… why?”

It’s a fair question. She never planned on staying all these years. But she can’t bring herself to leave.

“You know, this is probably the most relaxed I’ve seen you,” Yuè Péng continues. “Do you really want to go back to your uncle? Although, I guess it makes sense if you wanted revenge…”

“Not really.” As callous as it may sound, she was never close to her birth parents. Their deaths were the deaths of strangers. And her uncle hasn’t succeeded in any of his plots against her so far; as irritating as he is, there’s no reason for revenge quite yet.

“…Well, just let me know if you ever need help, alright? I’ll do what I can!” Yuè Péng gives her shoulder a light pat, offering an encouraging smile. “For now, I think I need your help getting these two to bed.”

‘Help’ apparently means carrying both of them to the couriers’ quarters, as Yuè Péng is incapable of carrying either one. 

After that it’s a bit of a walk to Xiāo Jié’s room. Though Xiāo Jié is out during the entire journey, she stirs—inconveniently enough—as she’s being put to bed, reaching up to wrap her arms around Liú Jiānghuá. “Nooo,” she mumbles, burying her face into Liú Jiānghuá’s neck. “You carried me again? That’s not fair, I wasn’t awake…”

Her grip is surprisingly stubborn for someone drunk and still half-asleep, but it wouldn’t take much effort for Liú Jiānghuá to pry her off. She doesn’t. Instead, she lets Xiāo Jié pull her down and sits on the bed.

“Don’t go, don’t go, I have to enjoy this!” Xiāo Jié clings tighter, splaying herself across Liú Jiānghuá’s lap once more. “This is a once in a lifetime chance!”

“…Is it,” Liú Jiānghuá says, out of lack of anything else that comes to mind.

“Of course it is! Well, I guess it’s happened twice, but how often can I get pampered by the woman of my dreams?” Xiāo Jié pulls back a little, just enough to take Liú Jiānghuá’s hand and hold it against her own cheek. She smiles. 

She’s smiled before—over particularly exciting ingredients, at Bǐng Tiānhuá’s fussing, while reading her novels—but this might be the first time she’s offered Liú Jiānghuá a smile so unguarded. 

“I’ve always wanted to get swept off my feet, whisked off into the sunset… no more problems… one out of two isn’t so bad, even if it won’t work out…”

“What,” Liú Jiānghuá says.

“So elegant, so strong—I never stood a chance, did I? It really is unfair… When are you going to leave, huh?”

“I—“ Liú Jiānghuá starts, still trying to wrap her mind around what’s happening. In the end, she defaults to her usual excuse. “I haven’t paid my debt.” 

“Liar,” Xiāo Jié accuses, but there’s no bite to it. “You’ve saved my life plenty of times. And you probably don’t want me dead, since I’m still alive. There’s no reason to stay. Unless…” Xiāo Jié peeks up, a hopeful look on her face. “Would you call this kindness?” 

It’s almost as if she’s asking permission.

Kindness isn’t what keeps Liú Jiānghuá here, but what else can she say except: “If you like.” 

Xiāo Jié laughs. “How cruel! You’re a natural heartbreaker, aren’t you? Or maybe I’m a natural at heartbreak.” Despite her baffling response, she seems content clinging to Liú Jiānghuá, humming some vaguely familiar folk song. It’s only after she falls back asleep that her grip begins to loosen and Liú Jiānghuá is able to extract herself with only slight resistance.

She stands there for a moment. She fills a pitcher of water. She leaves it at Xiāo Jié’s bedside, along with an empty glass.

She needs… to clear her head. 

Maybe Bǐng Tiānhuá has someone that needs a beating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song xj is humming at the end is [this specific version of 茉莉花](https://youtu.be/Wcen6_MZvIA) because of these lyrics:
>
>> What a jasmine flower!  
Of all the blooms in the garden,  
none compares to it.  
I want to pluck one and wear it  
But I'm afraid it wouldn't bud next year.


	19. 五 | debt increases

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> again: pt 5 isn't done yet. also I know this story has gone from like. 13/20 to 17/25 to 19/30 and I promise I have an overall outline it just has to constantly be retooled.

Fortunately, Bǐng Tiānhuá has several people that need a beating and a general area they might be. 

Unfortunately, though somewhat difficult to find, they’re relatively easy to beat; what they offer is less of a fight and more of a slapstick routine. Perhaps this group is based around stealth over strength. Then again, if that were the case, it doesn’t make sense to have so many of them. Especially with how incompetent they appear to be. Clumsy, uncoordinated, easily panicked, they’re probably more a danger to each other than they are to her. 

This assessment is proven true when one of the would-be thieves bumps a barrel into a nearby campfire, which then explodes. About half of them are knocked unconscious in the ensuing blast.

Twelve against one had barely been a workout; six against one isn’t worth calling a fight.

With all of them knocked out by the flat of her blade, Liú Jiānghuá searches the camp until she finds some rope, then ties everyone up. Bǐng Tiānhuá will probably want to interrogate someone for answers. Or maybe she won’t, but might as well drop them off to keep them from causing any more trouble.

Now the only problem is getting everyone down the mountain.

…

Maybe if she didn’t knock them out she could’ve just walked them down… 

Then again, how many of them would Bǐng Tiānhuá need? Isn’t one or two enough? The rest could probably be left behind and dealt with later.

As Liú Jiānghuá is deciding who to bring, someone tries—and fails—to attack her from behind. If the intent was to sneak up on her, trampling through the leaves with a thunderous abandon wasn’t the right approach. She parries the thrust of a spear and jumps back.

This newcomer, at least, knows how to block and dodge. While not a challenge, this can be considered a fight. Which could’ve been a welcome distraction if he weren’t obviously and aggravatingly overconfident. He gloats over his superior reach (negligible), his superior condition (inadequate), and his superior tactical foresight in maneuvering a cultivator—with a sword, who can fly—to the edge of a cliff (…); his monologuing is more painful than any of his strikes, none of which land.

Liú Jiānghuá is usually one for efficiency over needless theatrics. In this case, she’s irritable enough to indulge. So she steps backwards off the cliff.

When the spear-wielder scrambles to look over the edge, she throws her sword; the hilt of it hits hard enough to send him flying backwards out of sight and, most certainly, out of consciousness. With that over, she calls her sword back. It should be easy enough to catch herself on it, but just before she does—

Xiāo Jié dives off the cliff.

At this point, her showing up isn’t as surprising as it probably should be—of course Xiāo Jié would appear. She’s supposed to be resting, in her bed, an hour’s hike away, but of course she would appear. 

“Hold on!” she yells, reaching around Liú Jiānghuá, and—briefly—the world goes strange just as they stop falling down and start falling sideways. They hit the sand of the beach below much sooner than they should have; Liú Jiānghuá curls around Xiāo Jié as they tumble to a stop. Not the most comfortable landing, but much less injurious than the entire fall would’ve been without Xiāo Jié’s intervention.

Liú Jiānghuá lies on her back and waits for Xiāo Jié to move away. She’ll no doubt offer some transparent excuse for why she’s mysteriously appeared out of nowhere. 

She doesn’t.

A quick check reveals no injuries; perhaps some minor bruising from their fall, but there shouldn’t be too much. Liú Jiānghuá made sure of that. But they’re close enough that Liú Jiānghuá can feel a slight tremble, a shuddering breath that betrays… something. 

“Xiǎojiě,” she prompts.

“Am I an idiot?” Xiāo Jié asks into Liú Jiānghuá’s shoulder, somewhat muffled. “Could I be any more of an idiot? Is it at all possible for anyone to be more of an idiot? It can’t be, can it?”

“Xiǎojiě.”

“Unbelievable. Impossible. I’m not only an incurable idiot, I’m an unbeatable one.”

Liú Jiānghuá tugs at the back of Xiāo Jié’s collar until she finally lifts her head. “Xiǎojiě,” she repeats.

“Dàxiá,” Xiāo Jié replies miserably. “I forgot cultivators could fly.” 

She’s hopelessly disheveled, hair undone and covered in sand. 

Liú Jiānghuá’s heart sways at the sight. 

“My debt has increased,” she says, weak against the impulsive thought.

“What? No, you could’ve—I messed up, I forgot and probably made it worse—”

“My debt has increased,” she insists, pressing a gentle hand against Xiāo Jié’s cheek. “At this rate I’ll be following you for the rest of my life.”

“…Uh,” Xiāo Jié says. “That’s, um—what, what does that—what are you—?”

Just then, Liú Jiānghuá catches a crumpled ball of paper right before it lands on Xiāo Jié’s head. Xiāo Jié stares at it. Then scrambles off of Liú Jiānghuá.

“…Good catch! That must be from Bǐngbing! Astonishing aim as always! Probably important!” Xiāo Jié snatches the paper and tugs it apart with much more force than necessary, kneeling to hold it flat against the sand. Miraculously, it remains intact.

It’s completely illegible.

“She says: stay put or else,” Xiāo Jié reads. Somehow. “She’s taking care of things up there and doesn’t want to come all the way down just to find we’ve left her behind. Apparently we’re close to where the rogue cultivators are set up, and they’ve been helping her out with all this—some of them are up there with her—so we’re supposed to go meet the rest of them.”

“Stay put, but go meet them.” Liú Jiānghuá stands, reaching down to help Xiāo Jié up. “We can only do one or the other.”

“Well, you’ve got a point there,” she says, allowing herself to be pulled up. She stares at their joined hands. “…Um. You can—I mean, are you going to let—”

“Yù-jiě!?” comes a shout from behind. Liú Jiānghuá turns to see a cultivator launching himself at them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has been one of the two scenes I've been Really Waiting For. it's written in my outline as:
>
>> XJ dives after her & does a portal like  
-  
\  
\ LJH/XJ  
\ v  
\ __  
\\______| >______ all ok


	20. 五 | many years before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes it legit took me 2 months to write 600 words. no more questions.

On a day like any other—as days had generally been for the past fifteen years—Liú Yù wakes up.

The first light of dawn filters through the trees and onto the haphazard bedrolls strewn about the forest clearing; last night had been clear enough, warm enough, and exhausting enough that no one wanted to bother with tents (which is generally what happens after fighting off a herd of water horses). Now, judging from the ambient sounds of discontent as the sun continues its relentless journey onwards, much of the sect regrets this decision (as they always do).

One person in particular has his head buried under his pillow in a futile attempt to stave off the inevitable. He really should know by now that if the sun doesn’t wake him, Liú Yù will. She nudges the unresponsive lump with her foot. “Tán Tiān[1].”

The lump of bedding lets out a grumble.

“Tán Tiān,” she repeats as she continues to poke and prod. It’s not long before hands shoot out from the bedroll and cling to her leg, keeping it in place.

“Stop… I’m sleeping…”

“It’s time to get up.”

“No… still asleep…”

“You’ll regret this,” Liú Yù warns. Just to be fair. After giving him a chance to jump up and greet the day—a chance he doesn’t take—she lets out a sigh and starts to walk, dragging Tán Tiān out of his bedroll. Tán Tiān, stubbornly clinging while stubbornly ‘sleeping’, is none the wiser up until she swings her leg forward and launches him into a nearby stream.

“Yù-jiě!” Tán Tiān shrieks, once he’s done sputtering and flailing.

“You’re awake. Let’s start training. You asked for this,” she reminds him.

“That was before I knew what kind of teacher you were! Taskmaster! Tyrant! What kind of coldhearted scoundrel expects their cute little student up at sunrise? It’s criminal!”

“When you’re strong, you’ll thank me.”

“When I’m strong I’ll _ kick your ass!” _

“You can try,” Liú Yù says, patting his head as she indulges in a slight smile that’s sure to be infuriating. Which gets her a string of curses as Tán Tiān makes his way out of the stream. 

He shakes his hair out, looking about as intimidating as a wet pup. “Just you wait,” he threatens, “I’m going to dry off and eat breakfast and grab my sword and then you’re gonna teach me how to kick your ass.”

“As xiándì[2] commands—“

“Ā-Yù!” From camp, Huà Xiázī[3] hurries towards them. “There you are! We really need to talk—Tiāntian, run through your forms with Sūxīn[4].”

“But Yù-jiě’s supposed to teach me swords!”

“Something’s come up.” Huà Xiázī runs a harried hand through her graying hair. “You’ll get the chance later, but for now, work with us okay?”

As reluctant as Tán Tiān is he trudges off without further complaint, sparing a few glances their way as he leaves. It’s only after he’s out of earshot that Huà Xiázī lets out a sigh and turns to face Liú Yù. 

Judging from her expression, it doesn’t seem like good news. “Āmǔ?” Liú Yù prompts.

“Listen, it’s nothing life or death, it’s just something that might get… complicated.”

As far as reassurances go, there have been better ones. “How so?”

“Well, we—not that we were really looking—ended up actually… you might want to sit down for this? Why don’t we both just sit down. That’ll be better.” Huà Xiázī clears her throat once they’re settled. “So, we actually might’ve ended up finding… your parents…?”

“Oh,” Liú Yù says. It’s a good thing she sat down. “This… might get complicated.”

Huà Xiázī nods, somewhat listlessly, and places a tentative hand on Liú Yù’s shoulder. “Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Tán Tiān - 談天 - I forget... I think April used a homonym for chatty lol  
[2] xiándì - 贤弟 - virtuous younger brother lol  
[3] Hua Xiazi - 話霞姿 - I'm gonna be real. nowadays when I need a name I just pathetically roll over to April like 'please name this character I'm tired of having thoughts'  
[4] Suxin - 苏鑫 - idk  
[5] Āmǔ - 阿母 - this like a.... informal/dialect-specific way of saying mom. listen. don't worry about it


	21. 五 | reunion long overdue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm allergic to writing backstory. anyway things are uhhhhhhhh p wacky in the world right now, stay safe, check sources on info, build up some solidarity, etc

Liú Jiānghuá recognizes the cultivator just in time, catching him instead of defaulting to an instinctive punch. “Yù-jiě!” he shouts again. His hair is much longer now, braided in an unfamiliar style, but he still has those mischievous fox-like eyes and that booming voice. “Yù-jiě! Yù-jiě! Yù-jiě! Does this mean that piece of shit uncle finally died!?”

What? “Tán Tiān—”

“It’s about time! Actually, it’s way past time! I’ll never forgive him for keeping you from us! I’ll dig him up just to kill him myself! Oh, everyone’s going to be so happy to see you, do you even know how old Xǔxu[1] is now!?”

“Tán Tiān—”

“Ten! Ten years old! The sweetest little ten year old you’ll ever see! Well, that’s not true because you’ve seen me, but she comes pretty close!”

“Tán Tiān, I will drop you.” That, at least, manages to cut him off. “Slow down. Start from the beginning.”

“The beginning?” His brow furrows in thought. “Xǔxu’s ten, everyone’s here, your uncle… wait, your uncle  _ is _ dead, isn’t he?”

Liú Jiānghuá drops him.

“Yù-jiě! That was mean! Is that how you’re supposed to treat your dearest darling little brother—”

“Give me a moment,” Liú Jiānghuá interrupts. She takes a deep breath. She lets it out. She pinches the bridge of her nose. Which does nothing to calm her racing thoughts; she’s unbalanced, but not dangerously so.

“Dàxiá, are you alright?” Xiāo Jié reaches up and moves Liú Jiānghuá’s hair out of the way, no doubt checking for injuries. Her fussing is… not unpleasant. “You’re not dizzy, are you?”

“What? Is she hurt? Yù-jiě are you hurt!?”

“Well, head injuries aren’t my specialty, but I know they’re no joke and that was a pretty bad tumble—wait, wait, wait, who are you!?”

“I’m fine,” Liú Jiānghuá cuts in. It’d be best to get introductions out of the way. “Xiāo Jié, courtesy name Xīn; Tán Tiān—”

“Courtesy name Jièmíng[2]! Got it after you left,” Tán Tiān says. “Yù-jiě can’t say it though, you’re not allowed! I’ll always be your Tiān-xiándì, got it?”

“…Be serious.” 

“I’m being serious!” And there’s no doubting that he is, but following that enthusiastic declaration Tán Tiān bites his lip, carrying himself with a growing hesitance. “I’m still your brother, aren’t I? I mean, I’d understand if you were mad, and I’m sorry it took so long—and we weren’t even the ones who got to you, it’s kind of a miracle we even ran into each other—but we’ve been trying to come back for you, we really have, and even though it’s been a while I still think of you as a sister but I guess it’d make sense if you don’t—”

“I do,” Liú Jiānghuá interrupts. Despite her own tangle of emotions she can’t help but pat Tán Tiān’s head just the way she used to all those years ago. At least Tán Tiān is still shorter than her. Small mercies. 

After a moment, Xiāo Jié clears her throat. “Ok, I’m just going to say it: I don’t know what’s going on. You,” she points to Tán Tiān, “don't seem to know what’s going on. I don’t even think dàxiá knows what’s going on! But, uh, this seems like a private matter. Should I go?” she asks. “I should probably go so you guys can get this sorted out—”

Liú Jiānghuá grabs her hand. “Stay.” Then, to Tán Tiān, “Tell me what happened.”

“After we left?” Tán Tiān hums, brow furrowed in thought. “It’s been a while, but… remember how we were supposed to swing by after a month and maybe kidnap you? Because of that we didn’t hear your parents… well, died, until we came back around. By then your uncle already had a warrant out for us in all the surrounding cities, plus a few major ones further south. Which has been  _ really _ annoying! Even down here we’ll get the occasional bounty hunter harassing us for the reward! And I’m pretty sure your uncle hired some just to make a nuisance of himself. I think you just took care of a few of them, actually. Doesn’t that man have anything better to do with his time?”

So that was it. 

Liú Jiānghuá lets out a sigh; years of tension, of uncertainty, fall off her shoulders. Now that it’s gone, it’s hard to know what’s supposed to be there instead. But that can be dealt with later. For now, it’s easier to focus on just how much her uncle has been troubling them, and just how little her inaction has helped with that. “It’s my fault,” she says, bowing her head in apology.

“What? No, obviously it’s your shitty uncle’s fault.” Tán Tiān pushes Liú Jiānghuá back upright, straightening out the creases in her robe. “He’s the one that kept us from kidnapping you. Which I still don’t get. Why’d he need you around, anyway? And why’d he have to keep us out?”

“As long as dàxiá’s alive, she has claim to her title,” Xiāo Jié explains, and Tán Tiān jumps; he probably forgot Xiāo Jié was still there. “I’d guess Liú Míngyǔn wanted to keep an eye on her. At least, until he figured out how to get rid of her in a way that couldn’t be traced back to him. Murdering both of dàxiá’s parents was already a pretty risky move; if he came under investigation for another disappearance, there’s a high chance the empire would’ve gotten involved and stopped the transfer of title until they got someone to poke around, and those investigators are always way harder to buy off than local enforcers. As for why he needed to keep you out—are there any cultivators of wide renown in your group? If so, he probably just wanted to avoid any amount of attention they might bring.”

A moment passes in silence. 

Xiāo Jié coughs.

“But, that’s just a guess… I wouldn't really know…”

“Right,” Tán Tiān says, nodding. Then, “That’s a lot of suspicious things that just got said. Yù-jiě, who exactly is this?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Xǔxu - 許許 - it's a nickname, yall know the drill... I put in a placeholder name and April helped me figure something out. if you see a name there's an 80% chance that 1) April came up with it, 2) there's some kind of pun going on  
[2] Jièmíng - 介明 - ok I definitely picked this one out but I forget from where and why
> 
> no joke - 兹事体大
> 
> at one point I also had like... another three hour convo with Liz to get the backstory sorted out in my head but I think I have to mess with the specific ages again at some point. every time you see a number just ignore it


	22. 六 | introduction

This is shaping up to be the longest day of Xiāo Jié’s life, and it hasn’t even hit noon. She really should’ve learned how to keep her mouth shut by now considering how much trouble it’s gotten her into over the past year. The past month. The past minute.

What’s she supposed to say! _‘_ _ Oh, I’m just someone who happens to know a bunch of stuff about politically motivated assassinations, specifically ones that match Liú Jiānghuá’s exact situation, don’t worry about it…’ _Yeah, right! That’s sure to go over well! But there really isn’t a harmless reason for her to know all this, is there? Or, wait, no, maybe she can use Bǐngbing as an excuse—

“My companion,” Liú Jiānghuá answers, and Xiāo Jié almost topples over in shock. An assist? From Liú Jiānghuá? And not to be ungrateful, but what’s with that ambiguous phrasing, huh!? It’s written all over Tán Tiān’s face that he’s connecting all the wrong dots!!

“So by companion, you mean like…” Tán Tiān starts to make some vague gesture that’s sure to have _ implications; _ Xiāo Jié brings her hand down between his in a desperate frenzy. 

“Nope!” she yells. “Not at all! We’re together—stop doing that!—because dàxiá thinks she owes me a life debt!”

“I do,” Liú Jiānghuá says.

“You really don’t!”

“Alright,” Tán Tiān cuts in, glancing at Liú Jiānghuá with a raised eyebrow. “I definitely need to hear more about that, but first, since Yù-jiě isn’t giving a straight answer: Xiāo Xīn, who exactly are you? A noble? A spy? A secret princess from a far-off land? Or—”

“None of those,” Xiāo Jié interrupts. If this is what Liú Jiānghuá grew up with, it’s no wonder she gets along with her couriers. “I’m just an herbalist. I work at the palace.” 

“The palace, huh… that must be why you know so much about political bullshit, right?”

Fuck! That’s the perfect excuse!

“My condolences,” Tán Tiān says, offering a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “The palace sucks.”

“Ah…”

…Okay, so that’s maybe not the most articulate response, but any mention of the palace usually gets ‘what an honor!’ or ‘how exciting!’ instead of ‘so who’s been poisoned this week?’ or ‘ready to make that fifth batch of headache tonic because your coworkers keep stealing what you’ve made?’ 

Xiāo Jié clears her throat. “What makes you say that?”

“I used to be one of the princesses.”

_ WHAT? _

“It was the _ worst, _” Tán Tiān continues, as if he didn’t just drop some massive political leverage just now. “Lessons every minute of the day, and at least once a week someone would try to stab me in the back. Sometimes with an actual knife. I wasn’t even that high up! I was… number fourteen, maybe? Or was it seventeen—”

Xiāo Jié lets out a wordless shout, covering her ears. “_ Why would you tell me that! _ ” she yells. “Isn’t that pretty valuable information? There’s at least _ seven people _ who’d pay a fortune for intel on a runaway from the palace!”

“Is that right?” Tán Tiān quirks an eyebrow.

…Fuck.

“Well, maybe not actually, it’s just, I can imagine that if this was overheard by the right people—wrong people, I mean—it’s possible they’d, uh, misuse it—”

“Don’t tease her too much,” Liú Jiānghuá cuts in, before Xiāo Jié can dig herself into an even deeper hole. Teasing? This is teasing? Why is he teasing? Is it that fun to watch her squirm!? What’s the point! The trap has been sprung and Xiāo Jié’s caught! Has been caught this entire conversation! Maybe even before! Ah, just get it over with! Throw out whatever accusation fits best, any would probably hit the mark! 

But instead, Tán Tiān amiably holds up his hands in obvious surrender. “Okay, I’m done, I’m done.” Then, to Xiāo Jié, “Don’t worry, last I heard they’ve still been looking for a princess. Just don’t sell me out, alright?” 

“…Alright,” Xiāo Jié echoes. Shouldn’t he be following up on how blatantly suspicious she is?

“Anyway, are you planning on staying in the palace for long? Because if so, that’ll actually make it pretty easy to keep track of you and pop by for a visit. But also, that means having to stay in the palace, and I can’t imagine it’s gotten much better since I left.”

“It’s not… bad,” Xiāo Jié says. “It’s something that…” Was useful. Kept her busy. Gave her the chance to experiment with more ingredients. Was what her father wanted. “…I kind of fell into.”

“You could always fall out of it.”

“That’s not really how it works…”

“Just let Tiānhuá know first,” Liú Jiānghuá says, as if that’s the only thing she’d need to do before uprooting her entire life.

Honestly, it _ would _be nice to leave it all behind. Palace life is exhausting enough on its own; juggling that plus having to settle her father’s affairs is just too much—and she still can’t get Liú Jiānghuá to leave, which just keeps complicating things! 

Or maybe that last one won’t be an issue anymore? Now that she’s apparently found her real family, whatever vague suspicions are keeping her attached to Xiāo Jié probably won’t matter as much and she won’t need to use the life debt as an excuse to stay away from her uncle. That would certainly make things… easier. 

“Xīn-jiě,” Tán Tiān says, derailing those thoughts. “if you need some tips on escaping the clutches of the palace, our āmǔ’s an expert. You’ll get the chance to ask her soon enough!”

“…Huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, writing ljh takes forever but writing xj takes a week. this chapter was actually originally written from ljh’s pov, but then I had to put in the flashback and that bumped this chapter back... works out
> 
> something I need to do is go back and make xj’s job suck more. it feels like most of the edits are just gonna be making her life more miserable... sorry xj! them’s the breaks


	23. 六 | introductions, second round

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are so many names here april saved my life

“It’s been a while,” Liú Jiānghuá says, offering a slight bow. 

The entire camp of cultivators—what must be at least twenty people—stand frozen in place, shocked either by Liú Jiānghuá’s sudden reappearance after years of separation or by her… quite frankly, rather underwhelming opener.

“What the  _ fuck _ ,” someone says, which breaks the floodgates; the crowd surges forward and engulfs her in a gigantic group hug.

“After all these years  _ that’s _ what you start with—”

“—Jiějie, jiějie, I got a sword—”

“—My old vambraces! I was wondering where those went—” 

Xiāo Jié’s perfectly fine being the third wheel to this family reunion and staying in the background while all the yelling and hugging and crying and general chaos plays out. That’s about what she expected, and it makes sense; this doesn’t really involve her. Until, for some inexplicable reason, Liú Jiānghuá pulls her into the crowd and says: “She saved my life. Treat her with care.” Then proceeds to introduce every member of the sect.

It’s a whirlwind of names and faces which, in general, would usually blur together, but the thing is… she kind of… knows some of them!? Not personally, but Cāng-shībó[1] is _definitely _Yún Cāng[2]—wanted posters followed him around for years after he posted the tax records of a corrupt official all over his hometown. And the woman next to him is Fù Jǐn[3], a delegate’s daughter that disappeared the morning of her arranged marriage. Shū Xǔ[4] bears a striking resemblance to the current head of treasury, and there were definitely rumors of him having a child born out of wedlock ten years ago (which never really got confirmed because, well, no child was ever found). Dù Mǐnhé[5], Rǎolóng Wǎn[6], Huò Guō[7]... those are definitely names she’s overheard at some point while growing up, dinnertime gossip passed around by her father’s colleagues.

And “āmǔ” turns out to be Huà Xiázī? _ That _ Huà Xiázī? The one who seduced the last emperor’s wife!? Does that mean the woman next to her is the _ ex-empress!? _ And they’re just _ hanging out _ right by the _ palace!? _ Sure, after twenty-some years she’s more or less faded to obscurity for the general populace, but Xiāo Jié can still remember just how much it set everyone scrambling to take advantage of the situation, and there’s definitely people who’d be pretty interested in knowing what the paramour of the ex-empress is up to nowadays. <strike></strike>

What she’s up to is shoving a bowl of stew into Xiāo Jié’s hands, because apparently it’s… time for lunch? Dinner? A meal of some sort, it’s hard to keep track. It’s good stew though! Whatever meat they’ve (illegally) hunted is very tender. “We really can’t thank you enough,” Huà Xiázī says. “Not just with saving her life—which we’re obviously grateful for, no doubt about it—but also, without your help I don’t know how long things would’ve just stayed the same. It really was a stroke of luck that you ran into each other!”<strike></strike>

Ah. How… awkward.<strike></strike>

“Ā-Tiān mentioned you were at the palace,” she continues. “If you ever need to disappear, let me know, alright?”<strike></strike>

Xiāo Jié almost drops her bowl. “Oh, no, absolutely not! I, uh, I couldn’t possibly trouble you with that!”<strike></strike>

“No trouble at all! If we had a door it’d always be open, so don’t hesitate!” Huà Xiázī offers a grin, entirely clueless to just how much trouble it would actually be. For Xiāo Jié, that is, considering she’d probably have to tell everyone exactly just what she’s running from.<strike></strike>

Thankfully, before she says something self-incriminating, Bǐngbing appears out of nowhere and taps Huà Xiázī on the shoulder. “Jiānghuá probably needs your help.”<strike></strike>

When they look over to where she is, it’s hard to make her out amidst all the children getting newly acquainted with their long lost… sister? Aunt? Or something. There’s a couple kids hanging off Liú Jiānghuá’s arm, another three trying to climb up to her back, and one sitting on her shoulders.<strike></strike>

“Hey! _ Hey! _ Aren’t you injured?” <strike></strike>

“No,” Liú Jiānghuá says, swinging her arm as the kids shriek with delight.<strike></strike>

“I’m not just going to believe that! Hold on a second—” Huà Xiázī rushes off, even though any injuries sustained should’ve surely healed by now, but maybe it’s a mom thing.

“Thanks,” Xiāo Jié says as Bǐngbing settles in next to her.<strike></strike>

“I know what happens when someone offers you help. Wouldn’t want you disappearing for another ten years.” 

“Okay, alright, you get one more of those before I…!”

Bǐngbing raises an eyebrow.

“...Keep taking it.”

“Wow. For a second it almost looked like you were going to stand up for yourself.” Bǐngbing heaves out a put-upon sigh, patting Xiāo Jié’s shoulder with a gratuitous amount of camaraderie. “Thank goodness Jiānghuá’s looking out for you now.”

“I doubt it’ll be for much longer.” At Bǐngbing’s questioning look, Xiāo Jié shrugs. “She got her happy ending, didn’t she? Escaped her uncle, found her family, it’s time for her to ride off into the sunset with the rest of them. If you’re done,” she gestures to their now empty bowls, “we can say our goodbyes and leave.”

Bǐngbing stares at her.

“What?”

“You are so fucking dense,” she says. “It’s agonizing.”

“What are you talking about? It makes sense!”

But Bǐngbing just shakes her head. Then, calling out to where Liú Jiānghuá is buried under a pile of kids, “We’re getting ready to head back!”

A muffled “Understood” comes from the pile before Liú Jiānghuá manages to extract herself from it (much to the disappointment of the children). After talking a bit to the rest of the cultivators—more hugs, but less yelling and crying—she heads back over to them.

“Let’s go,” she says to Xiāo Jié.

…

…

…?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] shībó - 师伯 - basically senior student  
[2] Yún Cāng - 雲蒼 - cloud + pale  
[3] Fù Jǐn - 傅瑾 - fine jade + virtuous  
[4] Shū Xǔ - 淑許 - if you reverse it, it’s kind of a pun  
[5] Dù Mǐnhé - 杜憫和 - like compassionate harmony...?  
[6] Rǎolóng Wǎn - 擾龍莞 - apparently the surname is p badass!  
[7] Huò Guō - 霍郭 - okay. listen. to walk yall though how names get made, in the beginning I went in the deep dive of picking out specific characters. then I got tired and just put placeholder phonemes I knew would probably make names and went on wikipedia trawls to see if there were real ass people who had the same name so I could rest reassured I was actually using a viable name. then I got tired of that too and now I just put placeholder names that may or may not work as names but april tells me what characters would make it A Legit Name. for this placeholder I literally just could not think of anything but hot pot so I just put hot pot.
> 
> This is such a pain to format on mobile but 1) I wanted to post asap 2) I don’t want to get out of bed


	24. 六 | lingering like every wave on an open sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here’s another scene I was really excited to write...!

It’s an exhausting hike back after such an eventful day—apparently Xiāo Jié looks so winded that Liú Jiānghuá offers to carry her like three times, but Xiāo Jié can have. A little dignity. She can walk, so she’s going to walk! No matter how appealing the alternative would be!

By the time they get back Xiāo Jié decides: fuck work! She’s still got time before her deadline and there’s really no point in finishing anything early, not when her dear coworkers wouldn’t hesitate to take credit for her contribution. So she just passes out.

The next morning she’s woken up by Liú Jiānghuá, which is always a pleasant sight first thing in the morning—does she just wake up looking like that?—but it does mean time for Xiāo Jié’s mad scramble of a morning routine. Thanks to taking yesterday off, she’s got to work twice as hard today! So that’s something to look forward to!

After getting herself reasonably presentable Xiāo Jié’s just about to rush off to the apothecary, thinking about ingredients and formulas and ratios up until she finds her wrist caught by Liú Jiānghuá. Who holds her in place.

Ah, this is it. Liú Jiānghuá’s finally gotten tired of the mutual farce they’ve been playing out. That must be why she didn’t stay with the cultivators! To get some answers! Some closure! Xiāo Jié can only hope she’ll spare some mercy after getting what she wants.

…

“Dàxiá?” Xiāo Jié asks, after a solid amount of awkward silence.

“Your hair is a mess.”

...Isn’t it always!? Well, it probably looks worse than usual considering she just fell asleep without bothering to undo yesterday’s haphazard bun, but Xiāo Jié’s just a mess! Sorry! She doesn’t want to look like this either, it just happens.

“Let me fix it,” Liú Jiānghuá says.

Xiāo Jié’s too shocked to even put up token resistance as she’s led to the cluttered and barely used vanity taking up space in a neglected corner of her room. Liú Jiānghuá unpins the bun and starts running her fingers through Xiāo Jié’s—well, not terribly tangled but certainly not neat—hair.

Xiāo Jié stares at their reflection. This is a weird development, isn’t it? She’s not supposed to be someone who gets… attended to! It’s just unnecessary! It doesn’t make sense for Liú Jiānghuá to have such a look of concentration as she threads through Xiāo Jié’s locks, teasing apart the knots with entirely too much care. And she even gets out what’s obviously a high quality comb for the task, one that shines with a black lacquer finish, vibrant red flowers carved into the curve of its base. Red teeth too, that’s a neat touch.

Usually the most effort Xiāo Jié puts into her hair is a quick wash and brush, if even that much. This, in comparison…

A comparison can’t be made!

Even though Xiāo Jié’s heart starts off beating at a rabbit’s pace, each pass of the comb is so… soothing. She can’t help but lean back into those steady hands, it just feels… nice… and she wants… wants to…

“When are you leaving?” Xiāo Jié blurts out, before she can get too comfortable. “We both know the life debt thing is bullshit. You’ve saved me plenty of times by now.”

Liú Jiānghuá stills for a heart-stopping moment. Her expression doesn’t change at all, as unreadable as ever. Then she keeps brushing Xiāo Jié’s hair. “I’d follow you for the rest of my life, if you’d let me.”

…

What?

Wait, what?

Hang on, wait, what?

“You shouldn’t say that kind of stuff so lightly,” Xiāo Jié manages, eventually. She clenches her fists, nails biting into her palm. “Especially to someone you don’t even know.”

“I know enough.”

Stubborn! Stubborn and confusing! What exactly is going on here? What does she know? That Xiāo Jié was obviously involved in her uncle’s dumb murder plot? That Xiāo Jié can’t keep a secret to save her life? That Xiāo Jié’s a fool? An idiot? A coward? What would it take to end this whole… thing!? Does Xiāo Jié really have to say outright: yep, it’s absolutely her fault! She was the one who almost got Liú Jiānghuá killed!

Well!

She can’t.

“What about your family?” It’s a pitiful redirection, but… after so long apart from them, why wouldn’t she go after them the first chance she gets?

“We’re keeping in touch,” Liú Jiānghuá says, and there probably is some kind of mystical qì communication trick. Or something.

Xiāo Jié keeps quiet (for once) as her hair is gently pulled and pinned into place. It’s probably the most put-together she’s ever looked. Then, as a final touch, Liú Jiānghuá tucks the comb into the bun. And sure, it looks nice, but… why?

Liú Jiānghuá glances up to the mirror, no doubt assessing her work. She must see Xiāo Jié's questioning look, considering she does actually offer explanation: “A gift from Yuè Péng.”

All the more reason to keep a close eye on it, right?

But before Xiāo Jié can say anything to that effect, Liú Jiānghuá’s already made her way to the door. She waits, expectant.

...Xiāo Jié really was hoping to clear the air. And she will—she has to—but... maybe it’ll be easier after she gets a few more things settled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapter title comes from a line in [海上花](https://youtu.be/UAV-DBFZT_k). I popped the lyrics into google translate and this line... came out so intact... so poetic... I was like DAMN I GOTTA USE THIS FOR SOMETHING IT SOUNDS SO GOOD!! Anyway ages ago in undergrad I was told that combs symbolize separation and I’m glad I finally get to use that (WITH the wedding stuff! kind of.)
> 
> I’m so glad I’ve made all my ocs idiots


	25. 六 | Hindsight

Xiāo Jié!

Has!

Fucked!

Up!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is also why pt 6 was so quick to write. planned from the start! almost thought about writing an actual full-length chapter! did not.


	26. 七 | in just five minutes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok final stretch here we go
> 
> almost forgot - made a lot of edits to minor details, including 1) uncle interaction, 2) made xj's job worse, 3) ....something else but I forget. not big changes, though
> 
> also forgot - you might've noticed the summary actually, like, exists. now that it's done I'd figure I'd at least make a passing effort to make oc project presentable......

“Xiāo Jié,” calls some nondescript palace worker—a courier, judging by the uniform. “Boss wants you.”

Xiāo Jié lets out an extended groan, dragging her hand down her face in a show of overt displeasure. “Seriously? Can’t someone else take care of whatever it is?” 

“Nope.”

“Of course not. Everyone here is allergic to staying past noon. It’s a wonder any work ever gets done! Dàxiá, could you finish this up?” Xiāo Jié asks, pressing a mortar and pestle into Liú Jiānghuá’s hands. “It needs to be ground into a fine powder—shouldn’t be a problem for you! If I’m not back before you’re done, just put it on the windowsill and leave it there for an hour. And if I’m not back before then, hunt down Xíng-qiánbèi for me, won’t you? I’m joking,” she adds. “Don’t actually do that.”

Xiāo Jié hurries off. It’s a lot quieter in the apothecary without her rambling stream of conscious. In general, she’s astonishingly good at making noise; even when she’s not talking to herself there’s always clattering bowls, ingredients being prepared, and—at the very least—idle humming.

After grinding the mixture as instructed, Liú Jiānghuá leaves to hunt down Xíng Zhìháo. An hour hasn’t yet passed (or even five minutes) but without someone to mind her, Xiāo Jié has a habit of getting roped into pointless errands people should be doing themselves.

At this time of night the palace is mostly empty. The west wing, that is. Most of the civil servants and other assorted employees have gone out drinking by now; those that remain are left to languish in overtime.

Xíng Zhìháo, as usual, is one of them; extra work is to be expected when the majority of one’s subordinates are spoiled nobles from families influential enough to “discourage” reprimands.

“Good timing,” they say when Liú Jiānghuá enters their office. “Is Xiāo Jié with you?”

“No.”

“It looks like we’re a bit short on—what, really?” Xíng Zhìháo looks up from their logs, briefly taken aback, then returns to their work. “Could you send her over? I was hoping to catch her before she left.”

“I see.” Liú Jiānghuá closes the door before they can ask for anything else. 

It seems Xiāo Jié may be involved in some trouble. 

Just in case, Liú Jiānghuá goes back to the apothecary. After that turns up nothing, she puts away Xiāo Jié’s current project and seeks out some of her coworkers who—useless as always—deny seeing her. There’s no doubt they’re telling the truth; none of them would dare lie, not to Liú Jiānghuá. 

The last stop is their room to check if she’s at least left a note. 

Liú Jiānghuá doesn’t find a note. She does find Bǐng Tiānhuá waiting outside, arms crossed, letter clenched in a fist, and expression clouded by thunderous ire. “ _ Finally.  _ If you’re going to ask to meet it’s basic manners to show up on time—where is she,” Bǐng Tiānhuá demands, apparently noticing Xiāo Jié’s absence.

“Gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean  _ gone?” _

After getting a brief summary of the day so far, Bǐng Tiānhuá looks down at her letter and heaves out a sigh. “Typical. Right when she sends a heartfelt ‘I’ll tell you everything!’ she gets kidnapped. I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

There’s an ache that comes with knowing Xiāo Jié’s attempted honesty. No doubt she mustered all her courage, finally ready to speak her truth to a trusted confidant. A good development… even if that confidant couldn’t be Liú Jiānghuá. “She can tell you later. Let’s find the courier.”

“There’s a lot of couriers,” Bǐng Tiānhuá says with no little skepticism. “How are we going to find the one we’re looking for?”


	27. 七 | debt repaid

“You’re looking for someone?” Yuè Péng asks, obviously surprised. He moves aside, letting Liú Jiānghuá and Bǐng Tiānhuá into the northern couriers’ modest quarters, gesturing for Hé Zhèng to help pull out a couple more cushions. “I’ll do my best, of course, but not even I could know every courier employed by the empire. What did they look like?”

...This is where it gets a bit challenging.

“Black hair,” Liú Jiānghuá manages, after tugging at the memory of their brief meeting. “It’s cut short. Brown eyes. About this tall—”

“Oh, must be Pào Huì[1]!”

Hé Zhèng stares in obvious shock. “That was the most generic description I’ve ever heard. How could you  _ possibly _ guess who she’s talking about?”

“There aren’t too many couriers in the city right now matching that description. Plus, he’s a rather handsome man—“

“Stop. No one needs you to monologue about how handsome he is.”

“That’s not it,” Yuè Péng protests, affronted by his junior’s perfectly reasonable assumption. “Liú-nǚgōngzǐ isn’t terribly keen on men, handsome or otherwise. To get such a sparse description means it has to be him!” 

That’s fair. 

“In any case, what do you need him for?”

Bǐng Tiānhuá lets out a humorless laugh. “He kidnapped Xiāo Jié.”

The couriers turn to look at Liú Jiānghuá, eyes wide. After a moment, Hé Zhèng clears her throat. “So. What… are you going to do with him.”

“Find him. Capture him. Interrogate him.”

“I see,” Yuè Péng says. “I understand. Say no more. Leave the capturing to us!”

“You’ve done enough.” More than enough, really; this is much faster than breaking into every dorm of the couriers’ quarters.

“Listen, I’m sure you could handle this on your own,” Hé Zhèng says. “You’re very strong. You might be too strong. You might end up killing him.”

She wouldn’t; she still needs answers.

“And besides, we still owe you!” Hé Zhèng nods, the matter apparently decided. “Just wait right here, we’ll be back soon enough.” Before any more protests can be made, the couriers take their leave.

Since that’s taken care of, Liú Jiānghuá turns to Bǐng Tiānhuá. “I need to send a message.”

“That’s technically not my job,” she says with a wry lilt. Still, she reaches into her sleeve and pulls out a scroll. “I take it you’re calling for backup?”

Liú Jiānghuá nods. She trusts her companions, but it’d be better to leave them with someone that can use a sword in case the incoming prisoner proves troublesome. Or if matters last long enough to interfere with their professional duties.

Once she’s written a short message—the address of the dorm and a brief explanation—Liú Jiānghuá hands back the scroll, and Bǐng Tiānhuá channels a thin stream of demonic energy into it. The ink dries, seeping in, then through the paper. Theoretically, if Tán Tiān’s experiments have been as successful as he claims, he should be getting her message on his scroll.

Judging from his instantaneous reply (a promise to be there as soon as possible) there’s no need to worry. 

“Well, that’s good.” Bǐng Tiānhuá sighs in relief, cutting off the stream of energy. “If he kept us waiting for a response I would’ve…” She glances at Liú Jiānghuá. “Not gutted him.”

A moment of silence falls between them. Liú Jiānghuá does not look away from the door.

“You know,” Bǐng Tiānhuá continues, “Xiāo Jié disappears off on her own a lot, but this is the first time whatever she’s involved with actually shows up to take her. I guess something big might be going down.”

“…”

“What I’m saying is… I hope you get her out of it.”

“I will,” Liú Jiānghuá vows.

True to their word the couriers return soon enough with Pào Huì, who is very conspicuously bound and gagged; it’s a wonder they made it back under such suspicious circumstances. Yuè Péng pulls out a cushion and Hé Zhèng kicks their hostage until he’s kneeling.

Liú Jiānghuá removes the gag. “Where is Xiāo Jié,” she demands.

Pào Huì coughs and sputters. “Who can say?” he manages, an astounding amount of bravado considering his perilous situation. Perhaps he’s been lulled into a false sense of security; after all, his coworkers aren’t known for their ruthlessness.

“Tell me or I cut off your arm.”

That puts an end to Pào Huì’s astounding bravado. “You—you can’t be serious!” he shouts, frantically trying to wiggle behind Yuè Péng. “Don’t just stand there, are you all just going to let this happen!?” 

Hé Zhèng kicks him again. “Does it look like any of us could stop her?”

Just as Liú Jiānghuá unsheathes her sword, there’s a knock at the door, and Pào Huì breathes a sigh of relief as she goes to open it.

In bounds Tán Tiān, much sooner than expected.

“What did I say, didn’t take long at all! Oh,” he says, turning towards Hé Zhèng and Yuè Péng and offering a shallow bow. “Nice to meet you! Thanks for taking care of Yù-jiě.”

“...Thanks?” Hé Zhèng stiffly returns his bow. “It’s kind of been the other way around.”

“Anyway, Yù-jiě, what were you doing with your sword, huh? That’s no good.” Tán Tiān sighs and shakes his head; a glimmer of hope shines in Pào Huì’s eyes. “It’ll be such a pain to clean! At least lay down a sheet! I’m sure there’s one around somewhere,” he says, already poking around the room for something appropriate. 

The blood drains from Pào Huì’s now-hopeless face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Pào Huì - 泡惠 - literally just now I accosted dad and showed him these characters and he was like 'well it's not likely but I guess this could be a name'. anyway yes I got sick of naming characters and called this guy a homonym of 'canon fodder'
> 
> anyway I know yall must be burning to know and yes ljh would have totally cut off his arm, but if that still didn't make him talk I think they'd all be like. well damn. respect. and would've dumped him off at the hospital lol


	28. 七 | reunion not quite overdue

After that, Pào Huì folds easily. Tán Tiān’s timely arrival means Liú Jiānghuá is free to leave all remaining logistics and concerns to him; maybe they’ll all be able to get more useful information out of their hostage, but Liú Jiānghuá has all she needs.

Apparently, Xiāo Jié’s supposed to be meeting with a mysterious conspirator from the north, one with a vested interest in getting ahold of Liú Jiānghuá’s original family records. Probably to destroy them and throw the legitimacy of her title into bureaucratic purgatory. Because the mysterious conspirator is definitely her uncle.

The clearing is at the edge of the forest, overlooking a cliff; remote, isolated, and far from the city—perfect for a private conversation. Liú Jiānghuá jumps up to a well-concealed tree branch. From here, she’s got a good enough vantage point to see Xiāo Jié in the midst of what looks to be an argument with a figure completely covered in white: white boots, white robes, white gloves, and a plain white mask.

It’s Liú Míngyǔn.

Xiāo Jié holds up a thick bundle of paper bound in twine, face set in an uncharacteristic and unyielding glare. “Your hires didn’t get them.  _ I _ did,” she says in a harsh tone leaving no room for argument. “Original family records don’t come cheap. You know my price. Swear you’ll leave her to me.”

“I’ve left her to you for two months,” her uncle retorts.

“And I’ve been  _ busy _ . As much as I’d have loved diving right into vengeance, the mess you made takes precedent! Unless you want to take responsibility for what my father’s left behind.”

Dimly, Liú Jiānghuá remembers—the bandits, right before she met Xiāo Jié. And with everything Xiāo Jié’s said about her father…

“Besides, you think he’d be satisfied with a quick death? You think I would?”

While Liú Míngyǔn seems to be buying her motivation, it doesn’t actually work in her favor. “You want to know what I think? I think you’re a weak, third-rate herbalist. I think the second you get your chance, you’ll choke. Might as well leave it to someone with the stomach to finish the job.” 

“That’s not up to you,” Xiāo Jié says, her voice remarkably steady. 

But Liú Míngyǔn’s hands rest ominously on the hilts of his two short swords. “I wouldn’t be so sure—“

Liú Jiānghuá jumps down into the clearing.

Xiāo Jié lets out a yelp, scrambling backwards. It’s difficult to read the look in her eyes. Fear? Relief? Was she hoping to settle this without Liú Jiānghuá’s involvement? But doing anything to assuage whatever anxieties Xiāo Jié may have could put her in a compromising position, and Liú Míngyǔn would certainly use any leverage he can; for the moment, Liú Jiānghuá trains her focus solely on him.

“You see?” her uncle says, drawing his swords. “You should have killed her when you had the chance.”

Liú Míngyǔn isn’t weak. What he lacks in strength he makes up for in speed, able to parry and counter in a whirlwind that prevents any opening for retaliation. He lunges forward, negating any advantage of reach Liú Jiānghuá has, then backs off the second she’s about to overpower him and strike back.

But they can’t stay at an impasse forever. Liú Jiānghuá’s strength and stamina far exceeds his own. 

It’s not long before he starts to falter, flinching against the brunt of her strikes. His next stab overextends and a simple twist around the blade is enough to send one of his swords flying off to the side, stabbing into the ground. The fight gets increasingly one-sided as he struggles against Liú Jiānghuá’s offensive, just barely able to keep up.

He blocks a strike with just enough force to keep her sword in place. “Won’t you allow my surrender?” he asks, panting. His eyes—what little of them can be seen through his mask—show just a hint of plea. “Great warriors should be merciful, after all.”

Liú Jiānghuá pushes forward. Her uncle slowly skids back toward the cliff’s edge, heels digging into the dirt.

“Just as well.” He jerks away and, with a gloved hand, throws something at Liú Jiānghuá. It’s too close to dodge; she has no choice but to catch it before it can take out an eye.

It burns in her hand. Liú Jiānghuá can’t drop it fast enough. Despite the brief contact, things already start feeling… too much. Her vision swims as her qì spikes, choking her with too much energy, and she stumbles.

“Liú Míngyǔn!” Xiāo Jié shouts. “That wasn’t the deal!”

“You say that as if there was one.” He retrieves his other sword at a leisurely pace. “Besides, a disruption stone is quite difficult to obtain; it would be a shame to waste, wouldn’t it?”

Liú Jiānghuá has gone into qì deviation once, back when she was overeager and unaware of her own limits. It was a small incident easily handled by Huà Xiázī, soothing her and siphoning off the excess energy much too overwhelming for Liú Jiānghuá’s untrained body.

Now, Liú Jiānghuá channels an unsteady stream of qì outwards in violent uncontrolled bursts. Try as she might she can’t settle the tumultuous roiling of energy within her, especially with her concentration divided between inner turmoil and her uncle’s attempts to stab her. She’s kept upright by instinct and skill honed from years of training, but attending to her qì deviation leaves her vulnerable.

A well-aimed kick sends her sprawling. Her uncle stands above her, the tip of his sword held over her heart.

“Stop!” 

The command in Xiāo Jié’s voice is enough to give Liú Míngyǔn pause. Or perhaps he’s confident enough in his victory that he thinks he can afford distractions. 

Xiāo Jié marches over and shoves the bundle of papers to his chest. She snatches one of his swords, holding his gaze in challenge. “Any objections?”

Liú Míngyǔn scoffs. “It doesn’t matter how she dies. Do what you want with the time she has left.”

Slowly, Xiāo Jié walks to where Liú Jiānghuá lies prone. Through the haze of the chaos within her, Liú Jiānghuá can see how she trembles. She must be terrified.

Xiāo Jié kneels at her side. One hand hovers above her; in the other, a raised sword glints in the moonlight. 

The sword plunges down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man, I've had this scene in my head since last august... 
> 
> anyway, while editing liz was like 'is there something culturally significant about lmy's clothes' and all I could really say is. technically yes since white's the color of death but the real reason is that I was just looking for a place to shove in the detail 'by the way he's totally wearing gloves' and didn't want to describe clothes.


	29. 七 | flowers under moonlight

A sword protrudes from Liú Míngyǔn. His own sword, in fact. He stares down at it as if unable to understand the injury. He stares at Xiāo Jié as if unable to understand who it was that injured him. Xiāo Jié closes the portal, blood streaked across her face; a breathtaking sight.

He lunges towards her. 

Xiāo Jié shrieks and, in a desperate and frenzied motion, opens another portal just as he’s upon her. His enraged howl suddenly takes a distant timber, then fades into the night until a faint impact can be heard.

She lets out a breath, relaxing for all of two seconds before glancing back down. “Oh, shit!” Xiāo Jié fumbles with a pouch at her belt, then holds Liú Jiānghuá up as she pours a powdered concoction into her mouth.

It’s familiar, the way it immediately dampens her senses. Before it was an excruciating loss; her senses dulled, an agonizing weakness. Now, it’s a comfort.

Xiāo Jié keeps an anxious hand to Liú Jiānghuá’s pulsepoint, muttering as she checks her meridians. After a moment she relaxes, heaving out a heavy breath. Then she starts to laugh.

“Wow!” she yells. “That was easy! Way easier than expected! Don’t know why it took me so long to do it!” She keeps laughing, definitely approaching hysterics. Before Liú Jiānghuá can offer any attempt at comfort, she sprints away, off to some nearby bushes, and starts dry heaving. When she’s done, she slumps over miserably. “Bǐngbing’s gonna kill me…”

“...She won’t.” Though it takes a bit more effort than it should, Liú Jiānghuá manages to make her way over. She offers Xiāo Jié her flask, which is taken listlessly.

“Sorry,” Xiāo Jié says, once she’s drunk her fill. Then, at Liú Jiānghuá’s questioning glance, “For killing your uncle.”

“He was a terrible uncle.” Liú Jiānghuá places an awkward hand onto Xiāo Jié’s shoulder. “Sorry for killing your father.”

“I was actually kind of hoping you would.” Xiāo Jié offers another weak laugh, her smile strained. “I should start from the beginning, shouldn’t I…”

Liú Jiānghuá gives her a moment to gather herself.

“So, um, you’ve probably guessed by now, but I’ve been… technically working for your uncle? He’s actually been sending me letters for weeks; I guess he got sick of me not doing what I was supposed to, but—”

“You said you’d start from the beginning,” Liú Jiānghuá interrupts, a gentle redirection. 

Xiāo Jié blinks, shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts. “I guess, but to start from the _ beginning _ might get a little boring. Are you sure?”

“The beginning,” Liú Jiānghuá repeats.

“...Okay,” Xiāo Jié says, and she clears her throat.

“My father always wanted more power. When I was young, I couldn’t really help with that. He tried to figure out some way I could be useful, tried to train it in me, but I wasn’t strong. I wasn’t a good liar. I wasn’t… well, useful. So he left me behind. Which was fine.” She lets out a quiet breath, not quite a sigh. “It would’ve been better if he didn’t come back. But he did, and saw that I could finally make portals without fainting, and that I was actually a pretty decent herbalist. So he wanted me at the palace.”

“I knew about you,” she continues. “Not by name, but at first my father laughed at how much trouble you gave Liú Míngyǔn. Which was quite a lot! Keeping track of packages that were supposed to disappear, protecting couriers that weren’t supposed to live, that derailed quite a few of their plans. But as years went on, the minor hiccups started becoming less and less minor. Eventually, my father decided that if Liú Míngyǔn couldn’t get rid of you, he‘d have to step in. And he wanted my help.”

“You remember this, I’m sure.” Xiāo Jié raises the pouch of powder, looking away as she does. “It’s not my best work. I used a bit less boar’s blood than needed, didn’t let it sit in sunlight long enough, and distilled seawater at boiling point instead of a light simmer. But, I mean, you were there—I even messed up messing up. Too much of a coward to commit, I guess.”

“...I was so sure you were a goner. But you survived. It was incredible! Seeing you fight past your limits, to your last breath, you were like a hero straight from the pages of a novel! Really, you were so...”

The way Liú Jiānghuá remembers it, she was covered in blood and driven forward by some feral instinct for survival. Is that really what appealed to Xiāo Jié? Perhaps it’s a matter of cultural difference.

Then again, the way Xiāo Jié looked, resolute and haloed by moonlight as she skewered Liú Jiānghuá’s uncle upon his own sword… perhaps not.

“And there you have it,” she concludes with a hopeless resignation. “You have your answers. Go ahead, arrest me—“

“I’m not in law enforcement.”

“—stab me—“

“Do you really think I would?”

”Well, do _ something _,” Xiāo Jié protests, vying for a grievous injury. “I almost got you killed! Several times!” 

Liú Jiānghuá takes Xiāo Jié’s hands in her own. “You saved me,” she says, soft and with purpose.

“After almost getting you killed! You can’t possibly want to stay with me, not after all this—“

“I do.”

That puts a halt to Xiāo Jié’s endless stream of panic. She stares, stunned into silence. For a single second. “I don’t believe you.”

“Then let me prove it.” 

“What,” Xiāo Jié says, as Liú Jiānghuá traces the curve of her cheek in a gentle caress. “What,” Xiāo Jié says as Liú Jiānghuá leans towards her, close enough to share breath. “Mmph,” Xiāo Jié says, when Liú Jiānghuá finally pulls her into a kiss.

Xiāo Jié stills in shock, which is… not the most enthusiastic response. But just as Liú Jiānghuá draws back, Xiāo Jié pulls her forward and captures her lips in another kiss, clumsy and desperate and tender and warm.

When they next part, Xiāo Jié’s eyes are shut tight as she clutches at Liú Jiānghuá’s shoulders. “I’m dreaming,” she says. “This is a dream and I am going to wake up any second now and I’ll never be able to look you in the eye again and it’s going to be so embarrassing.”

Liú Jiānghuá pinches her cheek.

“Ow, ow, ow! Stop that! Why!? Seriously, would it kill you to use your words—”

“It’s not a dream.”

“...Oh,” she says, eventually. 

“You don’t have to live like this,” Liú Jiānghuá continues, letting go; now that she has Xiāo Jié’s attention, maybe she can finally say her piece. “Live how you want. Do what you want. Let me show you what it could be like.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I, I have a job—“

“That you hate.”

_ “You _ have a job—“

“Not anymore.”

“Fuck, I forgot to grab the records,” Xiāo Jié mutters under her breath, eyes wide in belated realization. “Well, I mean, without your uncle around it’d probably be easy to get you reinstated as head of deliveries, plus you still have your pendant, and wait, what are you—“

Liú Jiānghuá yanks the aforementioned pendant off her sword and throws it over the cliff’s edge. 

“I don’t even know what to say.” Such a statement would’ve been a miracle if true, but of course Xiāo Jié continues with, “I don’t get it. There’s so many options here, I know there are, and you just keep choosing... I just really don’t get it. When are you going to get tired of this?”

“I won’t.” Liú Jiānghuá stares into Xiāo Jié’s eyes with unwavering determination. “What else would you expect from someone in love?”

At that, Xiāo Jié clutches even tighter to Liú Jiānghuá. “That’s so… unfair,” she says, helpless and obviously swayed. She takes a steadying breath. Then another. “Okay. Alright. You already know, don’t you? I’ll—I’ll follow you for the rest of my life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> while drafting this I threw in the filler 'ljh: I'm not a cop' and was like. could I really fit this in. and a pal was like 'could you afford NOT to' and you know what they were right


	30. 〇 | a tragic ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end notes are actually important this time

Alas, as tragic as the story starts, it has an equally unhappy end. 

One day—on a day no different from any other—the uncle was nowhere to be found. People searched tirelessly, all to no avail. With a heavy heart, this humble courier took his junior to deliver summons for the daughter’s return; she had been attending to some business at the palace, but given Tiěyáng’s sudden loss it was imperative for her to return as soon as possible. 

Yet, the daughter was nowhere to be found.

An investigation has been ongoing for quite some time, but at this point, answers are unlikely; after all, there isn’t even a record of the daughter’s arrival. Who can say if she ever made it to the capital? 

What a devastating loss. Even now, the city struggles to appoint a new head of imperial deliveries (in part due to the empire’s… well, delayed response). But fret not! Tiěyáng’s couriers have been able to manage, helped on occasion by a roaming cultivator and her kindhearted companion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um................. I'm done! this is my first oc project I actually, like, planned out and followed through with, so if you've read up to here, thanks. this is being posted while I'm supposed to be writing my big final paper in the midst of finals week. I feel like I always finish big projects during finals week instead of, well, finals.
> 
> 1) EDIT 6/17/20 ***THIS*** ONE IS THE FINAL LAST VERSION FOR REAL, I SWEAR THIS TIME, I'M NOT PLAYING: I am now done formatting this story like a novel and also I updated it since the last time I uploaded a link. [here's the pdf.](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1fPlu2YTVnn4zj3pEhZnEX6xCZTo_r6BH/view?usp=sharing)
> 
> 2) THERE'S ART!!! BY MY PALS!!!!!!! [here's one of them](https://obstinaterixatrix.tumblr.com/post/615048622080458752/i-commissioned-my-pal-shounendog-for-my-gals) and [here's the other](https://spirostomum.tumblr.com/post/616868190921834496/hot-wife-tax-being-collected-for). also for those unaware I've been posting doodles to [my own tag](https://obstinaterixatrix.tumblr.com/tagged/nfsftlots) and I forget if I've ever linked that.
> 
> 3) you may notice, at the end, there is a related work by anonymous. there's two short extras but like, well, you know how some webnovels have extras, and they're, yknow, more intimate situations between the characters. that's what those are.
> 
> couldn't have finished it without ALL the support I've gotten... thanks liz... thanks april... thanks racher.... thanks lex...... thanks all of you for reading & commenting..... ok bye

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [extras](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24027643) by Anonymous 


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